


The Pits

by Masterpiece_of_turkey_cleverness



Series: Pits Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU--Souls are reincarnated, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom!Gabriel, Brief mention of potential pedophilia, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Lucifer's a bit of a dick, M/M, Minor Character Death, Sabriel - Freeform, Top!Sam, slow burn (?), wing!kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-09 17:57:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17411543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masterpiece_of_turkey_cleverness/pseuds/Masterpiece_of_turkey_cleverness
Summary: Ten thousand years in the past, Gabriel ends up in the La Brea Tar Pits, and the man carrying Sam Winchester’s soul at the time pulls him out.  Sam/Sahale, the shaman of a local tribe headed by his brother Dasan, tries to persuade the villagers to take Gabriel in--to no avail, and, ultimately, to their own detriment as Sam leaves with the archangel.  Beta’d by @ilikaicalie and my artist @nathyfaith from Tumblr; any mistakes left are my fault.  Especially if they happened to miss one of the many times I wrote 'Charlie' instead of 'Cha'r.'  Sorry about that, ladies.This is my Sam Winchester Big Bang submission.  A big thank you to the organizers, especially @themegalosaurus, my artist, @nathyfaith, my beta, @ilikaicalie, and the other writers who kept me (mostly) sane as I wrote.





	1. The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> I learned some things while writing this fic, and a few are important:
> 
> 1\. 'Tar pits' is actually a misnomer; scientifically, the proper term is 'asphalt lakes.' Unbeknownst to me (and my artist and beta), 'asphalt' is actually the glue that holds the bits of stone in pavement together, not the stones themselves. I use both terms in the fic. 
> 
> 2\. There are only a few asphalt lakes in the world--in California, Azerbaijan, Trinidad, and Venezuela. I wanted to use the La Brea pits for Reasons (see #3). 10,000 years ago, anyone living by them would be Native American. I tried not to emphasize nor de-emphasize this fact in the fic, except that I did give everyone First Nations names as a small tribute. The names each have meaning, and you might have fun looking some of them up if you're unfamiliar with them. Sadly, 'Sahale' doesn't mean Moose--don't think I didn't consider it.
> 
> 3\. In this fic, Sam entombs the bodies that housed the souls of Amelia Richardson and Riot in the Pits. To date, there has only been one human skeleton discovered in the La Brea Pits, the La Brea Woman. She was found with the skeleton of a dog, so until recently researchers believed she was deliberately buried in the lake (it turns out that the dog died 6000 years after she did, so scientists are no longer certain about the 'deliberate burial' thing). How did the La Brea Woman end up in the asphalt lake? Scientists don't know, and that question got me thinking and led to the first scene in this fic. You can find more information about the La Brea Woman and the La Brea Tar Pits here: https://tarpits.org/ .

[](https://imgur.com/6LKtwZZ)

(((More art can be found in chapters 2 and 11!)))

Sahale, known to his friends as Sam, gently laid the bodies of his dead lover and their dog down in the asphalt of the La Brea Tar Pits. Both had been killed by a saber-toothed tiger, which Sam had then hunted down and slain. Its pelt was staked out on the ground next to his lean-to, but that wouldn’t bring his lover, Awendela, back to him. One day, her soul would be reborn as Amelia Richardson and his soul would know hers for another few heartbeats, but he couldn’t know that now. All he knew is that he’d lost someone else, and he was heartily sick of it. 

He could console himself with the fact that his brother Dasan, the chief of their tribe, was still alive along with his nieces and nephews, but right now it wasn’t enough. He wanted to be able to grow old with someone, the way Dasan and Liseli were. 

Sam’s self-pity party was interrupted by a commotion in the sky. He looked up, only to see two gods chasing one another. They seemed to do that quite often, lately. As was only prudent, he ducked his considerable frame down behind a nearby boulder so they wouldn’t take notice of him. 

Though he understood the many tongues of the natural world, he did not know the language of the gods, even though he was the tribe’s shaman. Thus, he had no idea what the two winged individuals in the sky were saying to one another. It was probably just as well. 

“Father damn it, Gabriel, that was my _best_ armor!” complained an individual with dirty blonde hair sporting two pairs of absolutely gorgeous wings that looked like the sky at sunrise. 

The being he was chasing was smaller, with darker hair, and had two pairs of bright golden wings that seemed to hold all the colors of autumn leaves, ranging from a bright orange-gold on the tops of the wings to a very pale yellow-gold on the undersides. This god was laughing, flitting back and forth and staying just in front of the other. Sam thought his wings were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Both beings were wearing white wrappings that flowed and shifted around their bodies, somehow staying in place as they flew. 

“So help me, Gabriel, I’m going to--” In the middle of the first being’s rant, the second darted in _this_ direction when he should’ve darted in _that_ direction. The blonde god’s fist connected with the other’s head with a sharp crack. The golden-winged-God let out a grunt of pain, and began to fall--straight toward the lake of asphalt. 

“Ha!” Sunrise Wings cried, pausing to hover over Golden Wings’ falling body. “Got you, you dick!”

Sam winced when Golden Wings’ seemingly unconscious body hit the asphalt lake, wing side down. The idea of the tar covering those beautiful colors…

“And now, you can spend a few thousand years as a fossil! That’ll teach you not to touch my stuff, little brother!” Sunrise Wings turned his back and flew away. 

For a moment or two, Sam was frozen in shock. The gods had fought, and one had been cast down. Yet, Sam’s instinctual response was to help the being that was slowly sinking into the tar. But was it his place to interfere in the matters of gods? 

Suddenly, he decided he didn’t care. His dead lover and his dog were already gone; he wasn’t going to let this magnificent being go too. Sam set out at a careful run over the uneven terrain, making his way over to the spot on ‘shore’ that was closest to Golden Wings. He had a short rope with him, which he tied around a nearby tree trunk. He tied the other end around the wood of his bow. Sam then stripped naked; he didn’t want tar all over his possessions--his bow would already be ruined if his plan went as he hoped. 

Sam slipped his arm through his bow and then began slowly wading out into the ‘lake.’ Though it looked as if it would be hot, it was actually the same temperature as the rest of the ground. It was, however, beyond disgusting--both in terms of the feel of the oily tar on his skin and the smell. He tried to hold his breath as much as he could. 

The end of the short rope was soon reached, and Sam maneuvered around so he was still holding it and reaching his arm out toward the god’s foot. The god’s face was still above the tar, though his wings had sunk below the surface and seemed to be pulling him under with them. The foot was only just out of Sam’s considerable reach, and he snorted in frustration. Looking back at his set-up and then over at the god, he adjusted himself so he could unstring the bow, wrapping the string twice around his wrist before letting it play out behind him. He just hoped that the knot he’d tied in the rope around the wooden part of the bow wouldn’t slip off, because it was nearly impossible to get yourself out of the pits without an anchor. 

The extra foot or two turned out to be enough slack for him to not only reach the god’s foot, but to take a firm grip on his ankle. Sam didn’t have a chance to wonder if it was blasphemous or not--he knew if he didn’t get them both out of the asphalt they’d be there forever. So, he began to pull them, ever so slowly, back to the shore. The muscles in his back strained as he began stepping back the way he’d come, towing the god’s body behind him. 

Sam’s first triumph was reaching the bow once again. Now, he could grasp the rope, and it wouldn’t matter if the knot came undone. The triumph was short-lived, however. With a sudden lurch, the god’s body stopped moving toward him. Sam looked back, puzzled, and then realized that the gods’ wings must have caught on something underneath the surface of the lake. It wasn’t surprising; they were only chest-deep at this point, and those wings had been huge. 

Sam swore and looked back and forth between the shore and the god, whom he noticed was still breathing, thankfully. It was lucky he’d landed face up. Sam hated to damage the beautiful wings, but he tugged harder just in case that would free them from whatever obstruction they were caught on. It didn’t. So he stood, panting, chest-deep in the asphalt, getting light-headed from the fumes as he tried to figure out what to do next. 

Luckily for him, the god woke up at that point. Unluckily for him, the god flailed--and pulled himself out of Sam’s grip with a rather unmanly shriek. He began cursing in the language he’d used before, moving around until he was mostly upright. Unfortunately, he wasn’t as tall as Sam. While he didn’t sink very quickly, it was clear that he was being pulled under--his wings didn’t even come to the surface in this new position. 

“Hey!” cried Sam, as he was doused with additional asphalt. His skin was going to be black forever, at this rate. 

Only when he made noise did the god notice him. “Oh. Um...hey,” Golden Wings said, switching to Sam’s language. “Ahhhh….what’s going on?”

“I was trying to rescue you,” Sam replied, gesturing to the nearby shore. 

“Well, thanks, but I’m perfectly capable of rescuing myself,” the god said. He then snapped his fingers on the one hand that wasn’t covered in black goo. 

Nothing happened. 

The god snapped his fingers a few more times, looking increasingly distressed. “Is that...supposed to do something?” Sam asked finally, eyeing Golden Wings’ fingers dubiously. 

“Yes, yes it...oh,” and he swore loudly in his own language. “This--” he brought his tar-covered hand to his mouth and then stuck his tongue out and licked it. “Saber-toothed-tiger-fucker. This shit’s got anti-angel properties somehow.” 

“Angel?” Sam repeated the odd word carefully. 

“Yeah, that’s what I am. Um. About that rescue…”

“But you’re a god,” Sam replied with wide eyes. 

“Ha. Nope! Close, but no successful hunt.” The idiom didn’t sound right coming out of the god’s mouth. “I’m a messenger of God, but this disgusting stuff is--oh Father, it’s all in my wings, isn’t it?” Golden Wings made a face. “I am _never_ going to get it out.” 

Sam reached out slowly, and managed to grasp the angel’s tar-covered wrist with his tar-covered hand. That done, he began towing them both back to shore. “Probably not. You will have to pluck the feathers so they grow back.” 

He was looking toward the shore and didn’t see the look that the angel gave him. “...Normally, I’d just snap my fingers and show you how wrong you are, but right now...you’re right, I could be grounded for...years, if I have to wait for all the feathers to grow back.” His voice faltered as he began to realize just how screwed he really was. 

“My tribe will take care of you until you can fly again,” Sam responded. He wasn’t sure where the offer had come from, but he was suddenly glad he had made it. 

“...Thank you. My name’s Gabriel. What’s yours?” The angel had no choice but to let the taller man drag them back to the shore. Gabriel tried to help where he could, once his feet finally felt _terra firma_ underneath them, but his wings created so much drag that overall, his help made very little difference. 

“Sahale,” replied the other man, who was panting with the effort of pulling them both out. “My friends call me Sam.” 

“Well, Sam...thank you for rescuing me. I’d’ve been trapped in this pit for who knows how long if you hadn’t come along.” Gabriel eyed his rescuer, who was covered in tar--but his shoulders, which weren’t covered, were rather nice-looking. In fact, as his rescuer slowly pulled them out, Gabriel began to realize just how tall and well-muscled Sam was. 

“You’re welcome,” was all the breath Sam had to spare. He finally got them to ‘shore,’ and slowly crawled out himself before pulling Gabriel out behind him. Gabriel’s wings--all four of them--were one large mass of tar, which was all stuck together. Neither Sam nor Gabriel took much time to survey the damage yet, however: they both collapsed, panting, on their sides, trying to get their breath back.


	2. Clean-up

[](https://imgur.com/NR9DrrI)  
(Bottom-left image art by René Milot, can be found here: http://www.morgangaynin.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/RM-0206-Icarus-769x1024.jpg)

After catching their breath, Sam shared some water and berries from the pack he’d thrown aside in his haste. Both of them were too exhausted to talk at this point, but both wanted to get away from the fumes of the pit, so Sam gathered up his things with his cleanest hand and then beckoned to Gabriel. They climbed up out of the depression and walked about half a mile to a small stream Sam knew of. Gabriel didn’t have the strength to hold his wings up as he walked, so the ends of the tar-covered feathers dragged along the ground, getting covered with dirt, sand, leaves, small sticks, pebbles, and even a few unlucky ants. 

The stream they walked to came down out of the mountains, so the water was cool. Grasses grew along the water in the prehistoric California sand. Sam stopped at the edge of the stream to bend down and drink his fill, then refill his waterskin. Gabriel, however, waded straight in and dunked himself as best he could--the stream was fairly shallow. “Oh Father,” he groaned. “That feels good.” 

Sam left his things on the bank and then followed Gabriel into the water. Now that he wasn’t light-headed anymore, he was a bit more wary of the other being. It might have said it wasn’t a god, but it was definitely more powerful than he was. Or at least, it was usually. Sam had seen these beings in the sky before, hurling blasts of energy at each other, or fighting with strange metal sticks. The one standing in front of him didn’t seem that powerful now, as the being was trying to peel the formerly-white cloth off its body and had gotten stuck at a point where the wrappings had slid between the being’s wings. Gabriel was trying to stretch one arm back to pull the cloth out from one side, while holding the other end of the cloth away from his body so it wouldn’t get stuck. He kept trying to turn his body toward the one hand, and as a result was doing a little dance as he splashed around in the water, arms akimbo. 

Sam couldn’t help himself; he laughed, and Gabriel turned to give him a bright smile in response. Apparently, the angel was able to laugh at himself, which made Sam much more comfortable with him. “Little help here?” Gabriel asked, and Sam immediately moved to help thread the cloth through the gap. Getting it off entirely was tricky, because sometimes the cloth just slipped off, and sometimes the tar had gotten between Gabriel’s skin and the garment, and Sam had to help pull it off, leaving Gabriel’s skin looking red and angry where they tore it away. Thankfully, the cloth hadn’t stuck to Gabriel’s feathers, and it had actually protected his oil gland and the base of his topmost set of wings from the tar. 

Sam couldn’t help but admire the few feathers that weren’t covered in the sticky, oily mess. He loved their brilliant golden color. Gabriel’s body was nice, too, but it had been too short of a time since Awendela died for Sam to do more than just notice it. 

Although Gabriel yelped whenever the tar pulled hair from his body, he seemed to remain optimistic. “So, Sam-jam, any chance of getting my wings apart? My muscles are killing me here.” 

“Let me see,” replied Sam. “May I touch them?” he asked, reaching out but stopping short, hesitant to cause the other being pain.

“Sure, they don’t bite. Neither do I, unless you ask nicely,” Gabriel replied, looking up and over his shoulder at Sam and waggling his eyebrows. 

Sam didn’t look particularly amused before he gently took hold of the topmost set of the archangel’s wing bones to see if they could be prised apart. Unfortunately, the tar was too caked on for a little gentle pulling to do the trick. “I’m sorry,” he said. “They’re really stuck. Maybe I should try scrubbing some of the tar off first?”

Gabriel made a face, and folded his arms across his chest--at least, he started to, but that pulled on the muscles in his back, so he immediately put his hands down by his sides again. “That doesn’t sound like much fun. Why don’t you try my wing oil first, and see if it helps? I’ll see about the rest…” He grabbed a handful of sand and grass and started scrubbing at his arm that was covered in tar. 

“Wing oil?” Sam repeated carefully. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be looking for or where it might be. 

“The gland--the bump--between the top pair of wings. Press on it gently, and it will release some oil. It might help with the tar,” Gabriel explained. “Thank Father -that- didn’t get covered, or I would be a very unhappy archangel right now. The things I’m going to do to Luci when I get back…” He began to settle into a pattern--he’d scrub an area as best he could, then he’d try to peel anything remaining off, swearing as the hairs on his body came off with the small pieces of tar. 

“‘Archangel’? I thought you said you were an ‘angel.’” Sam spotted the bump Gabriel was talking about, and carefully reached up to touch it. “Here?” he asked. When he pressed his fingers against it, some oil dribbled out onto his hand. 

Gabriel groaned in response. “Yeah, there. Now, try rubbing that on the tar between the wings. I don’t know if it’ll work since this stuff isn’t normal, but if it does, it’ll be much nicer than this.” He indicated the sand and grass in his hand. “There won’t be enough to completely clean my wings or the rest of me--or you--but maybe we could at least get the wings on the two sides apart.” There was a short pause as he peeled some gunk off his arm, but he did answer Sam’s earlier question. “An archangel is one of the four angels that God made first. Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, and me. We have a bit more zip and zing than your regular angels, that’s all.” 

Sam did as instructed as he listened to Gabriel speak. It took a little time, but the oil did seem to loosen the tar. The...arch? angel’s wings were large, however. Sam started near the base of the topmost (and largest) pair of wings, with the thought that if he got the base of the biggest wings apart, Gabriel might be able to use the extra leverage to help pry the rest apart. “I see,” Sam said. “You are like...the chiefs of the angels?” 

“Mikey and Luci definitely think so,” Gabriel responded. “Raffie too, though he’s not as bad as those two. Me, I don’t like to be in charge of anything. It’s not any fun.” 

Sam chose not to comment--he’d been raised as the son of a chieftain, and both he and his brother had been groomed for responsibility since they were little kids. ‘Fun’ wasn’t really in Sam’s vocabulary, especially right now. He pressed on Gabriel’s gland again, and frowned when the archangel groaned again. “Am I hurting you?” he asked with some concern. 

“Nah, Sam-ram. It’s just a sensitive spot. Like...someone brushing their fingertips across your face,” Gabriel explained, glancing back over his shoulder to give Sam another smile. “It feels good, actually.” 

The emotions the metaphor brought up in Sam betrayed him, and his eyes filled with tears at the thought of Awendela’s fingertips against his skin. “Ah,” was his quiet reply. 

Gabriel noticed Sam’s mood shift, and turned around, frowning for the first time Sam had seen. “What’s wrong, Sam?” he asked gently. 

Sam took a step backward--at least partly to avoid being hit by tar-covered wings--and angrily dashed the tears from his eyes with his cleanest hand. “Nothing. It’s--nothing.”

Gabriel tilted his head to the side, amber eyes sharp like a falcon’s. “I may not have spent much time around humans, but I’m pretty sure it’s bad when they leak.” He stood there a moment, considering Sam, and then heaved a sigh. “Let me guess. Someone told you men aren’t supposed to cry.”

“I’m not--” and then Sam stopped, because what Gabriel said was too true. “Yeah,” he admitted. He and his father never had gotten along very well. 

“Well, that’s mammoth shit, Sammy. My dad was like that, and so are my oldest brothers. But Raffie taught me that good men can feel and express sorrow. No matter what happens, I’ll always love him for that.” Gabriel paused, then took a step closer to Sam, hesitantly reaching out to touch the other’s elbow. “What’s wrong?” he asked a second time. 

“My mate died a few days ago,” Sam admitted, though he looked away from Gabriel when the tears started to run down his cheeks. “I haven’t--it’s still fresh.” 

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel replied. He opened his arms as if he were going to give Sam a hug, then seemed to think better of it (which wasn’t surprising, considering all of the tar still covering both of them). “I’ve been there before, and it blows.” 

“Yeah. But that’s life,” Sam replied with a shrug, still not willing to show too much emotion. He did, however, take longer to wipe away the tears this time.

A plethora of emotions crossed Gabriel’s face, and he opened his mouth a couple of times to say something, then seemed to think better of it. Finally, he turned back around. “Tell me about her--or him?” he requested. “While you work on my wings? Then I’ll help clean you off.”

Sam considered this, and finally nodded, then realized Gabriel couldn’t see it. “All right,” he said aloud as he pressed on the gland again to get more oil. “Her name was Awendela--we called her ‘Wen. She was beautiful, and kind.”

Sam told Gabriel his and Awendela’s story while he worked on the angel’s wings. At some point, they both ended up sitting in the water, as it tended to cool the tar and make it crack so it was easier to pull off. It took a long time, both for Sam to tell the story and for he and Gabriel to get to the point where, with a sucking noise, the right half of Gabriel’s wings were suddenly separated from the left half. Gabriel quickly leaned back and dipped them in the water so that the tar would harden before they stuck back together. “Thank Father,” he groaned, looking up at Sam. “I think the knots in my shoulders have grown knots.” Gabriel straightened up, stretched as best he could, and then turned around. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up--you’re still as bad as you were when we got here.”

“I’m all ri--” Sam began, but Gabriel had already begun helping him peel tar off of his body. Gabriel’s enthusiasm from before had dimmed; Sam thought it might have been his story, but the fact that they’d spent hours in the creek by now without eating anything likely wasn’t helping either. They worked in silence for a time, but then Sam asked, “Are you all right?”

Gabriel glanced up, giving Sam a perfect view of his uniquely amber-colored eyes. He immediately grinned brightly. “A-okay, Sam-jam. But you, boy, when we go to peel this off your junk...” he whistled. “I’m actually glad it’s on my wings instead.” 

Sam didn’t believe that Gabriel was all right, but he didn’t exactly want to argue with the archangel, either. “Yeah,” he admitted. “It’s going to hurt.”

“Understatement,” Gabriel replied. “Welp. No point putting it off. Stand up, and I’ll get it over with as fast as I can.” He climbed to his feet, and offered Sam a hand. 

Sam’s eyes went wide, and his heart started racing. “Ah--no, no, that’s okay, I can do it myself.” 

Gabriel rolled his eyes, and kept his hand extended. “I’ve been watching you. You’ll pull it all off agonizingly slow instead of just getting it over with. You’ll be in pain a lot longer that way.” When it looked as if Sam was going to protest again, Gabriel added, “Don’t tell me you’re one of those men who’s afraid of having another man touch your junk.” 

Sam immediately scoffed, and stood with Gabriel’s help. “I’m not technically a man,” he said in a long-suffering tone, folding his arms across his chest.

Gabriel very pointedly looked down, then up, and raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure, Sam-yam? Because from where I’m standing it definitely looks like--”

It was Sam’s turn to roll his eyes. “I’m a shaman. We’re not technically male OR female, because the gods aren’t. We’re both, and neither.” Gabriel’s face twitched in response, and Sam thought he spotted disgust there. “...I’m sorry,” Sam said, suddenly doing a great kicked-puppy impression, “I meant to tell you earlier when you said that men don’t cry--”

“No, no, Sam, it’s not you, it’s--I was imagining Dad in a dress trying to talk sense into Mikey and Luci. Look, I’m sorry.” Gabriel held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. “I swear, it had nothing to do with you.” He leered at Sam. “And you’re hot, no matter what you are.” 

Sam stared at him a moment. “...Thank you?” he said finally, uncrossing his arms. He still wasn’t sure where he stood with Gabriel, so he wasn’t sure whether or not the archangel was making fun of him.

“Now. Time to get my hands on that junk of yours,” Gabriel grinned, and reached for Sam and the tar covering him. 

A whole lot of swearing and pain later, the two were resting in the shade of a sycamore tree, sharing Sam’s remaining food. Gabriel’s wings were still covered in tar, and the two had black stains all over their bodies, but otherwise they were both mostly tar-free. Sam had handed over a hide for Gabriel to wear around his waist, and had put on his own loincloth (although he left it _much_ looser than he normally did). “We should head back. My brother’s liable to be worrying about me by now. I said I needed some time by myself, but...it’s getting late.”

“Sounds good, Sam-jam.” Gabriel looked as if he was about to fall asleep, and Sam couldn’t blame him in the least. It wasn’t every day that your brother tried to trap you in the La Brea Tar Pits (Sam should know…). Still, when Sam stood up, Gabriel climbed to his feet and followed him as he began walking back toward their village.


	3. Homecoming

The two arrived at dusk. The ‘village’ consisted of a ring of thorny brush around a camp with a number of hide-based lean-tos on the inside. The people of the tribe mostly looked happy and healthy, for which Gabriel was thankful--they were less likely to complain about one more mouth sharing the food if there was more to go around in the first place. While technically he didn’t need food or sleep, his grace would replenish faster if he had access to both. 

At first, the adults just stared at him and Sam, and didn’t ask any questions. The children, however, promptly came running over to ask questions about who he was and where he was from. Gabriel was reminded of why he liked kids better than adults--so much less bullshit to deal with. He answered their questions, and they ran back to their parents to tell them, and soon, everyone knew that Sam had brought home an archangel named Gabriel. Whatever that was. The dog pack in the village came up to greet them both, some barking suspiciously at Gabriel but all of them greeting Sam enthusiastically.

Partly due to the dogs’ vigorous reactions, Gabriel noticed something else--while the adults of the tribe gave Sam respectful nods as he passed by, very few of them greeted him with any enthusiasm. In fact, many of them seemed slightly afraid of him. Many of the children stayed out of Sam’s way, too. Gabriel assumed it had to do with being a shaman or perhaps having lost his mate not long ago, but he couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for Sam.

Finally, they reached a large lean-to. Two adults, a man and a woman, were standing outside of it; the obviously pregnant woman was holding a small toddler. The man, a bit shorter than Sam but clearly related to him, gave Sam a bruising hug and whispered something to him. Gabriel assumed that this was Sam’s brother and Sam’s brother’s mate, Dasan and Liseli. The children that eventually clustered closely around the adults were also the children who hadn’t been so afraid of Sam earlier.

Sam and Dasan finally broke apart, and Dasan looked over at Gabriel. The way he held himself immediately reminded Gabriel of Mikey. “Who’s this, Sam?” Dasan asked, taking in the tar-covered wings, light brown hair, light skin, and amber-colored eyes. He sounded, if anything, mildly disapproving. 

Gabriel knew when it was time to turn on the charm. He smiled brightly at Dasan and stepped forward, arm out to clasp like a warrior. “I’m Gabriel,” he told Dasan, before Sam could say anything. “I’m an archangel. I had a little mishap and your brother here rescued me. I’m a little low on mojo at the moment, but I can promise that when I get it back, I can help take care of you and yours.” 

Dasan took the proffered grip, probably returning it a little harder than he had to, and listened to Gabriel’s pitch before looking at his brother. “Sam?” he queried. 

Sam shrugged. “He was flying with another angel, and fell into the pits. I got him out,” he explained. “I’m pretty sure he had magic before he got covered in tar. I told him we’d take care of him.”

Dasan frowned slightly at that, and gave Sam a look that promised a Talk later. The frown disappeared when he turned back to Gabriel, however. “Well, welcome, then...Gabriel. I’m Dasan, and I’m in charge. Liseli is my mate. Let either of us know if you need anything. Can you use a bow or a spear?”

“A spear, sure. Pointy end goes in the thing you don’t like,” Gabriel replied, nodding. He was still in Maximum Charm mode, though he had decided he wouldn’t wink at Dasan’s mate. Best not to upset the man in charge, however much he was tempted. Liseli was hot, despite being pregnant, or perhaps because of it. So was Dasan, for that matter, although between the two brothers, Gabriel preferred Sam. 

Dasan relaxed slightly. “All right. Then I can use you as a guard, perhaps...in a few days,” he added, after he glanced at his brother, who was giving him a Counter-Look. “Once you’ve recovered.” 

“Sounds good, Dasan-o,” Gabriel replied. Actually, it sounded awful--there was nothing more boring than guard duty. But, he supposed it was a task he could do, and in groups like this, he knew everyone had to do something in order for everyone to survive. “So, ummm...about tonight…”

“You can stay with me,” Sam offered, setting a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “I have room.” 

“Awesome. Glad that’s settled,” Dasan said, turning away to speak to his mate and dismissing them both.

Sam used his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder to turn the shorter man, and led him to an area of the small village that somehow seemed...remote. There were no nearby structures, and Sam’s lean-to was mostly hidden behind Dasan’s much larger one and a handful of trees. Sam picked up a basket from a low-hanging branch as he walked into the trees. It smelled of fish, likely from a nearby stream that Gabriel had spotted on the way in. “The villagers leave food for me in this,” Sam explained. “Each family takes a turn leaving me what they can spare. I usually don’t have that much time to go hunting or fishing or gathering. I’m either tending to the wounded or sick, or out trying to find medicinal plants that can be days or weeks away.” 

Sam’s shoulders slumped when they arrived at the lean-to. The cookfire was out (not surprisingly, since he had been gone all day), and the placed looked...empty. No, not empty, deserted. Gabriel hesitated, then placed a hand on the larger man’s back and took the basket from him. “I’ll get a fire started and make us dinner,” he said cheerfully, trying to snap Sam out of his momentary funk. “You get some rest.” 

“No...please, let me help. I need to be doing something,” Sam replied, shaking his head. “Besides, do you even know how to start a fire?”

“Yup. I go back to Dasan’s place and I take a burning stick from their fire and I bring it back here to light the other sticks on fire,” Gabriel replied with a grin. 

Sam scoffed, then went over to the fireplace. In practically no time at all, he had a fire going after deftly rolling a stick around in his hand. Gabriel would have to learn that, at some point. For now, he found a clay pot that had clearly been used for cooking and a bucket of clean water. He filled the pot with water, and then added the fish (which had already been cleaned) and some greens that had been with the fish in the basket.

Sam took the pot from him when he returned to the fire, glanced in it, and then placed it on the fire to cook. His melancholy seemed to have returned. Gabriel blamed Sam’s friends and family--literally none of the rest of the tribe came to check on Sam the evening he’d buried his mate? Assholes. 

Sam almost seemed to read his mind. “I know too much,” he offered, though he didn’t look up from the fire. “About life, and death, and healing, and magic...so they stay away from me. Even though most of them grew up with me. She didn’t avoid me,” he added, his expression softening. “She was a healer, from another tribe. Taught me half of what I know. Hell, I’m pretty sure she was smarter than I am.” 

Gabriel walked around the small fire and sat down next to Sam. “She sounds wonderful,” he offered, although he had come to that conclusion much earlier in the day when Sam had been talking at length about Awendela. Sam seemed to still need to talk about her, though, and Gabriel wasn’t about to stop him. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without her,” Sam said, his voice breaking. He buried his face in his hands, and began to cry. 

Gabriel reached out and set his hand on Sam’s back, slowly running it up and down. He appreciated the fact that this time, Sam didn’t stop himself from reacting to his feelings. “You’ll see her again,” he soothed. 

“Really?” Sam looked up from his hands. He wasn’t as pretty when he cried as he was normally--even his thoroughly tanned skin got red and blotchy, and his nose was running. 

“Really,” Gabriel promised. “But don’t tell anyone I told you. Trade secrets, and all. Not only will you see her in Heaven, but one day your souls will be reborn into different bodies, and you might meet each other then.” 

“Yeah?” Sam sounded thoughtful. “That would be nice.” 

“There are nice things in this universe, Sam-jam,” Gabriel didn’t remove his hand from Sam’s back. “Bad things, but nice things too.” 

“Yeah? Like what?” Sam asked, though there was no heat behind the argument. Gabriel recognized it as the type of bantering that brothers do--he had plenty of experience with it. 

“Like you,” Gabriel responded. “I don’t know if you realize this, ‘cause I can tell you’re a bit of a mammothhead, but not many people would’ve been brave enough to wade out into that mess after me.”

Sam shrugged, though his tears had dried--although Gabriel wasn’t quite sure why; the smoke from the fire was thick enough to make Gabriel’s eyes water. Then again, he wasn’t used to it. “I didn’t want to see anyone else die,” Sam explained, as if the whole rescue had been nothing of consequence. 

“Well. I’m glad you didn’t. Honestly--part of me wonders if Luci knew what he was doing, throwing me in that lake,” Gabriel said, leaning back in the sand. “I hope he didn’t, but he’s been so strange lately…”

“Strange how?” Dark eyes studied him with curiosity as Sam used a stick to stir the fish stew, which had begun to bubble. 

“He’s...He’s not like he was before. It’s hard to explain. He throws tantrums, sometimes, and is constantly picking fights, especially with Mikey. He hates it when he thinks that God’s paying attention to anyone or anything else. He’s my brother, I love him, but...sometimes he frightens me. I’m afraid he’s going to do something he can’t take back. And then Raffie and I will be in the middle, because Mikey will take father’s side.” Gabriel heaved a sigh, and removed his hand from Sam’s back in order to run it through his own hair. “I wish everyone would just get along like they used to.” 

Sam chuckled darkly. “I know what you mean. I have a half-brother, Adahy, and he fought with Dasan, and eventually left the tribe, but...for a while I tried to be the peacemaker.” 

“Like repeatedly slamming your head into a tree, isn’t it?” Gabriel asked with a shake of his head. “Both are too worked up to listen to you, let alone admit that maybe they’re wrong about something.” 

“Exactly,” Sam confirmed. There was a short pause, and then he asked, “You want to tell me more about it? I could work on your wings, and you could watch the fish.” 

“Could you?” Gabriel felt a little guilty asking Sam to spend more time on them, but the tar had to come off and he couldn’t reach everything himself. “I’ll work on the front while you work on the back.”

“We can work on them some more tomorrow, too,” Sam added, getting up to move behind Gabriel so he could reach the oil gland. He seemed to be using the work to distract himself from his sorrow, but Gabriel could hardly point fingers about unhealthy coping mechanisms. 

“Okay. So, let’s see. As I said, Mikey’s the oldest. The stick up his ass is bigger than your average redwood tree…” 

Gabriel and Sam spent the evening talking and working on Gabriel’s wings, and then they slept in Sam’s lean-to. Gabriel had to be on the outside on his stomach, since he couldn’t make his wings disappear, but the night was mild and Sam offered him plenty of hides to cover himself with. Gabriel hadn’t realized quite how exhausting the day had been until he closed his eyes and instantly fell asleep.


	4. Brothers

The next day, everyone was woken before dawn by the ground shaking violently. The villagers, used to this sort of thing, didn’t panic, but instead gathered in an open area in the middle of the village, everyone checking on everyone else to make sure that they all were present. As the earthquake continued and the sun started to rise, Sam began to hear murmurs to the effect that the gods were angry with them. 

Sam raised both his hands and voice. “Listen to me!” he called. “This will pass, as it always does. No one is hurt, and no one will be. There is no reason to think that the gods are angry with us. We’ve done nothing wrong.”

In an example of some of the worst timing in the universe, as soon as Sam had uttered his pronouncement a clay jar that had been tied to a tall pole slipped its bonds and fell to the ground, shattering directly in front of Gabriel’s feet. Gabriel jumped back a step, and suddenly all eyes in the crowd were on him and his misshapen, dragging wings. 

“We took him in,” someone pointed out--Sam looked over and spotted Bimisi, an elderly man who had been passed over for shaman long ago but still knew a few simple spells and omens. He was a troublemaker, constantly interpreting signs and omens for the other tribespeople in the worst way possible. At some point, either with magic or a ritual knife, he had covered himself in self-inflicted cuts that had formed scars, making it look as if various parts of his body had been sewn together. He very much disapproved of Sam’s logical take on the spirit world, the gods, and, truth be told, Sam himself. “Maybe it’s him who did something wrong!”

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but he heard another voice speak up before he could. It was Cha’risa, one of the tribe’s rare female warriors, and a friend of Dasan’s. Sam’s, too, usually. Unfortunately, she frequently spoke before she thought. “He didn’t!” she protested. “The other god hit him, and he fell into the tar lake!” 

How does she know that? Sam wondered briefly, before protesting, “They aren’t gods! They’re just messengers of the gods--”

“So another god cast this one down?” Bimisi had walked to the front of the crowd, and was pointing at Gabriel and yelling over Sam. “No wonder the other gods are angry with us! We provide succor to their enemy! We need to exile him, not take him in and feed him!”

The earthquake chose that exact moment to stop with a sickening lurch, proving that Winchesters, no matter what bodies their souls are in, really do have the worst luck in the world. 

In the sudden silence, Sam stepped between Gabriel and the rest of the crowd, seeming not to notice that he was treading on broken pottery. “Go back to my lean-to,” he told the archangel. “I’ll handle this.” Gabriel took a few steps back, and Sam turned back to the crowd. 

“See!” Bimisi crowed. “The gods agree with me! We should kill this false god while we can!” 

“That’s preposterous, you--” Sam started, taking a long step toward the other man. He’d been taught to respect his elders, but he was starting to get angry. 

“SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU!” Dasan was suddenly standing between them, glaring daggers at both. “Neither of you say another word. First. Is anyone hurt?” His gaze swept the crowd, who all shook their heads. “Then go back to your homes,” he ordered. “Make sure your possessions survived, then get on with the day. Cha’r, Sam, Bimisi, follow me.” Dasan turned, and stalked back toward his lean-to. 

Cha’r deftly ended up walking in between Sam and Bimisi, so all the two could do was glare at one another over her head. She carried a spear nonchalantly, but both of the men knew she was more than capable of using it--and not just to eviscerate an enemy warrior. When she was younger, most of the men in the village (especially the younger ones) had constantly walked around with bruised shins thanks to her weapon. 

Dasan led them to an area where he frequently held meetings, and sat down on the trampled ground. Sam took his normal position on Dasan’s left, Cha’r sat across from Dasan, and Bimisi sat on Dasan’s right. “Okay,” Dasan said, immediately taking charge. “You,” he pointed at Bimisi, “keep quiet for now. Sam. What happened yesterday?”

“I already told you!” Sam groused. “Gabriel was flying in the sky with another one of the angels. That one hit him, and Gabriel fell into the asphalt lake. I rescued him. And angels aren’t gods, especially not Lucifer--the one that hit Gabriel!”

“Of course the fallen god would tell you that,” Bimisi interjected, sounding smug. 

“I _said_ be quiet,” Dasan growled at the older man. “Cha’r? What did you see?”

Cha’r gave Sam a guilty look and wilted. “Well, I was following Sam, like you told me to, and...it was just like he said. The two were flying in the sky, and one hit the other in the back of the head. That one fell, and then Sam went in to rescue him.” Turning to Sam, she hurriedly added, eyes wide, “I made sure you got out okay and to the stream before I left! I didn’t want you to find out that Dasan told me to follow you. I’m sorry I didn’t help!” 

It was impossible to stay mad at Cha’r, so Sam’s glare softened. “I forgive _you_ , he told her, very pointedly not looking at his brother. He was more than annoyed that Dasan had sent someone after him. Did he think Sam was incapable of taking care of himself?

“Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday?” Sam was shocked to find Dasan was addressing him, as if _he_ had done something wrong. 

“What?” Sam protested. “I did!” 

Dasan shook his head, and held up a pacifying hand. “You didn’t say the other...angel...hit this one, just that he fell.” 

Sam wanted to punch his brother. “And _you_ didn’t say that you told Cha’r to follow me, so that makes two of us who left something important out yesterday.” He scoffed, and then stood. “This archangel has magic. He’s going to get it back. He’ll be able to help us when he does. But if you want to throw that all away, go ahead and listen to a _crazy man_ instead of your own brother, Dasan.” He felt rather than saw Dasan stand up and try to grab his shoulder as he turned and walked away, but he twisted so that the shorter man couldn’t grab hold. Sam was fuming as he headed back to his lean-to. 

He arrived, and found Gabriel poking at the cookfire ashes with a stick. “It’s okay, Sam. I understand; I’ll go,” he said in a falsely bright tone before Sam could react. “I don’t suppose you could loan me a loincloth, though?”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Sam replied, “Even though my brother is a fucking idiot.” 

Gabriel gave him a lopsided grin. “Brothers are like that,” he offered, before looking down at the campfire. “I was going to try to heat up the leftovers, but your brother’s not entirely wrong. I’m pretty damn useless without my grace.” He indicated the cold ashes. 

Sam took a deep breath. “You’re not useless,” he insisted. “Here. I’ll show you how to start a fire. It’s easiest with a bow, but…”

“But you lost yours ‘cause of me. I thought you were trying to cheer me up, Sam-jam.” 

Sam just shook his head and showed the archangel how to get a fire started, explaining how important both air and the right fuels in the right order were. Gabriel listened quietly, and carefully watched everything Sam did. The atmosphere lightened a little, especially when Sam got out some dried fish and berries and added them to the pot so there was more to go around. 

“So, uhhh...what happened, Sam-jam?” Gabriel finally asked, sounding as if he were forcing his tone to stay casual. “I came back here, as soon as you left with your brother.” 

“Dasan had me followed yesterday. I don’t think he trusts me to be able to survive on my own for more than five minutes; he’s always doing shit like this. And then he was angry because I hadn’t told him yesterday that Lucifer had hit you. I just didn’t think it was important.” Sam snorted in exasperation. “Don’t worry, though. Even Dasan isn’t stupid enough to actually listen to Bimisi.” 

“Yet,” Gabriel muttered. “Look, Sam, you don’t have to worry about me. I know how superstitious people can be. I’ll just go; I’ll be fine on my own. And I can tell you care about these people. I won’t hurt them when I get my magic back. You have my word.” 

Sam tossed him a bitchface, and scoffed. “Gabriel, you can’t even start a fire on your own. Are you going to try to convince me that you know how to hunt for yourself? How to avoid being killed by a saber-toothed tiger? Which berries will kill you and which ones are safe to eat? Don’t be ridiculous. In a few days, everyone will have forgotten about the earthquake, and they’ll remember how none of Bimisi’s predictions have ever come true, and no one will think twice about you being here.” 

Gabriel didn’t reply, and Sam let him sulk as they ate, since Sam wasn’t in any better of a mood. After breakfast, they decided to start working on Gabriel’s wings again, both of them trying to uncover his outermost right primary. Gabriel worked on getting the tar off of the underside, while Sam worked on the outer section of feathers. Both of them only used Gabriel’s wing oil in hopes that the feathers would retain their integrity once they had finished. Unfortunately, it soon became apparent that such was not the case--the little bit of feather they managed to clear was stripped of all of the tiny velcro-like barbs that held it together. “Shit,” was Gabriel’s eloquent summary. They continued, just in case they’d get better at removing the tar without harming the feathers, but neither of them held out much hope. 

Not long after this discovery soured their already-poor moods even further, Dasan came into the clearing with a bow in his hand, holding up his other hand in a gesture of peace. Sam glared at him as a greeting. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Sam?” the other man asked. 

Sam was in absolutely no mood to deal with Dasan, so he just grunted in reply. 

“Erm, alone?” Dasan pressed. 

“No. Since this is about Gabriel, why don’t you just tell him to his face what you decided?” Sam snarked. 

Dasan sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. “It’s not--you know what, fine. Gabriel. I’ve managed to convince everyone that Bimisi overreacted, and I’ve told him to keep his trap shut. You’re welcome to stay, despite what my brother thinks.” He sent a glare in Sam’s direction. “But...some people are talking about going back to the old custom, where the shaman had to eat at your fire if they wanted a share of your food.”

“What?!?” Sam shot to his feet, and Dasan winced at his brother’s tone. “That’s...that’s a tradition from our _grandfather’s_ time, no one does that anymore! It’s just an excuse to stop me from sharing their food with him.” One of his hands shot out to his side to indicate Gabriel. 

“I know.” Dasan was at least still reacting calmly. “Look, Cha’r and I’ll make sure you two stay fed, no matter what. But...I don’t know, if you could take him hunting or gathering or something and come back with a big haul and share it...it might go a long way toward earning you some goodwill.”

Sam folded his arms across his chest and frowned, but he couldn’t deny Dasan’s idea was a good one. That didn’t mean he couldn’t still take another shot at his brother, however. “Are you going to send minders with us to make sure we don’t hurt ourselves? Maybe one of the older women?” 

“That’s not fair, Sam, and you know it,” Dasan replied. “Cha’r’s one of my warriors, not one of the women. And...damn it, I was worried about you. You were so upset, and you wouldn’t talk to any of us, and you went out and killed that damn tiger on your own…” He trailed off. “When you wanted to bury her in a special place without letting anyone go with you…I was worried that you might....hurt yourself or something.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Gabriel shut his eyes as if pained. He, however, was only able to stare at his brother. “What?” he asked stupidly. 

Dasan sighed, and shook his head. “She was the love of your life, man. You were more broken up about her than you were even with Jacy. You go off on your own all the time to collect herbs or whatever and I trust you with that. I’ve never had you followed before yesterday. It just didn’t seem like you were in your right mind, so I asked Cha’r if she would mind keeping an eye on you while giving you your space, too.” 

Sam was having a hard time staying angry, but he felt compelled to get the final word. “That doesn’t mean I was going to _hurt_ myself. I wouldn’t do that to you and everyone else.” 

Dasan held up his hands in surrender. “Yeah, you were fine. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to make you angry.” 

Sam knew that Dasan’s apology was wolf shit; what it really meant was, ‘I didn’t mean to get caught sending someone after you.’ But, his face softened slightly and his arms uncrossed. “Fine. Apology accepted,” he sighed. 

Dasan leaned the bow he’d had in his hand against a tree. “Cha’r said you ruined your bow,” he explained. “This is my old one; it just needs a new string and it’ll work fine.” He turned, and then added, “I’ll have Liseli bring you two food tonight, if no one gives you anything.” 

“Thanks,” Sam admitted, as Dasan walked away. The tall man turned, and sat down behind Gabriel so he could continue to work on his feathers. 

Gabriel turned his head so Sam could see and rolled his eyes. “Brothers, am I right?”

“Yeah,” Sam replied, with conviction.


	5. Alouette, Je te plumerai

A few days passed. Unfortunately, every single time Sam took Gabriel out into the village proper, Bimisi made it a point to find some evil omen. While they didn’t have an earthquake as bad as that first night, there were several, smaller ones over the next few days, and Bimisi always had a reason why they were Gabriel’s fault. The donations of food that were traditionally left for Sam from the families in the village began to dwindle, but Cha’r, Dasan, and a few others who had reason to be particularly grateful to Sam stepped up and made sure his basket was filled with enough food for two each day. Sam tried to take Gabriel out hunting and fishing a couple of times, but they didn’t have any exceptional luck.

It was clear by now that Gabriel’s feathers couldn’t be saved, and Gabriel and Sam were only applying the wing oil to the roots of the feathers, to separate them from the skin so that they could eventually be plucked. Neither one of them were keen on that idea. Sam was surprised to learn that, now that the smell of tar was less overwhelming, Gabriel’s wing oil actually had a scent to it--something like baked gourds and some spice Sam didn’t recognize. He found himself enjoying the unique smell. 

Misery loves company, and in those few days they became fast friends. Gabriel seemed to know instinctively how to cheer Sam up when he started missing Awendela, and Sam knew enough about birds that he was able to reassure Gabriel that his feathers, which Gabriel said were closely connected with his magic, would start growing out as soon as they got the old ones out. Neither of them knew how long it would take, however; Gabriel told Sam that angels’ molts usually lasted for several dozen years, but they usually only grew one or two flight feathers out at a time. Pulling them all out and letting them grow back should take less time since all the feathers were growing at the same time, but they’d also grow more slowly than they would when he was only putting energy into growing one at a time. 

One day, it became impossible to make excuses to delay the plucking any longer. Gabriel and Sam traveled several miles from the village, ostensibly on a ‘hunt.’ Gabriel had explained to Sam exactly how painful this process was going to be, and said that he didn’t want the rest of the villagers hearing him screaming. Liseli, Cha’r, and Cha’r’s mate Cholena, who had all come to help work on Gabriel’s wings at one point or another, had offered to help, but Gabriel had said that he would feel more comfortable if it was just Sam. 

They found a clearing with plenty of exits in case a hungry predator discovered them, and Sam gave Gabriel a number of different herbs to chew and swallow. He also performed a small spell designed to lessen pain. 

“Just promise me you’ll rip them off and get them out as fast as possible,” Gabriel told him, once he had finished with the spell. “I want it over with fast. Even if I beg you to stop or whatever, just keep going. It has to be done.” The archangel was shaking. He’d been injured before, but he knew just how sensitive angel wings were and how much it hurt when just one or a few feathers got ripped out. Almost all of his feathers? He couldn’t even imagine it. 

“I’ll do my best, Gabe. But I’m only going to be able to do one side at a time,” Sam said. He was laying out strips of hide and some dried and crushed herbs and powdered, dried cattail roots in case the bleeding got out of control. He also had more herbs for pain. 

“I know. I trust you, Sam,” and Gabriel was somewhat surprised to realize that he actually did trust the human. He’d seen Sam angry, and sad, and happy, and everything in between, and he knew that Sam wasn’t the type who enjoyed causing pain. Just the opposite, really; Sam enjoyed taking care of other people. He’d watched Sam stitch up a few injuries over the past few days and knew he would be in good hands. 

“Okay,” Sam said, laying the final set of leaves down. He looked up at Gabriel, and then indicated an area next to his spot. “If you lay down here, I can do the back side of one set and then you can flip over and I can do the underside of another set. Then you’ll have to turn around.” 

Gabriel nodded. He could feel Sam’s herbs working into his system, dulling his senses. He bit down on a thick, leather-wrapped stick they’d created for this purpose, and then laid on his stomach next to Sam. He arranged his wings so that the bases were essentially in Sam’s lap, and then nodded and looked away, fisting his hands into the soil. It was going to be _very_ hard not to try to defend himself, as much as this was about to hurt. 

Sam spent a few moments looking through the tar-covered feathers, likely trying to decide on a strategy. “Okay,” was the only warning he gave Gabriel before he set his hand firmly on the base of the lower of the two wings, grabbed a handful of feathers, and _pulled_. 

Gabriel liked to think he was tough, but he screamed around the stick. He wasn’t even finished with that scream when Sam grabbed another handful of feathers and yanked them out by the roots. It happened again, and again, and Gabriel was reduced to a sobbing, screaming mess. He was pounding at the soil with both hands and feet by the time Sam had finished just one side of one of his four wings--the smaller of the two sets. 

Sam was breathing hard, as if he were running a race. “Are you all right? Do you need a break?” he asked, as he smoothed powdered cattail on the now-naked skin. Gabriel couldn’t really tell if he was bleeding or not; his wing felt as if it were immersed in a volcano. “NNNNNGGGGGH!” he shouted around the stick, motioning with one hand for Sam to get on with it. 

“Okay,” Sam repeated. This time, he started plucking the flight feathers out of the bottom of the wing. These actually hurt Gabriel slightly less because fewer nerves were associated with them, but it also took longer because Sam had to pull them out one at a time. There also seemed to be more blood, judging by Sam’s actions, which didn’t surprise Gabriel--the flight feathers went in all the way down to the bone itself. 

The torture continued. Gabriel knew that if Sam had asked him to do anything, _anything_ , he’d do it if it meant that Sam would stop. Minutes seemed to turn into hours, which seemed to turn into days, and then into weeks, and he was nothing but a ball of pain, despite the herbs Sam had given him. He thought he was saying something, over and over, but he couldn’t hear himself. Sam walked around him once, and then the pain in the other set of wings started. At one point, the stick between his teeth snapped despite its thickness, and Sam paused to make him unclench his jaw enough that he could bite down on a different part of the stick. 

In the lull, Gabriel finally heard himself chanting hoarsely, “Please stop. Please stop. Please stop.” Sam seemed to be repeating something back to him, but Gabriel couldn’t understand what it was that the human was saying. He felt nothing but pain, although suddenly he was looking at the sky rather than at the ground--at least, he thought he was; it was hard to tell through the tears. And the torture continued. 

Minutes or months after that--Gabriel wasn’t sure--there wasn’t exactly a cessation of pain as much as a lack of new pain being inflicted. All four of his wings were on fire. He spat out the stick and gulped huge breaths of air into his lungs, despite not really needing it. When he was done, someone put something in his mouth. He balked at first, but a hand gently closed his jaw and rubbed his sore cheek muscles to encourage him to chew. That, plus the slight numbness the substance was causing in his mouth, was enough to get Gabriel to hesitantly chew and swallow. Someone then put a waterskin to his lips, and he drank thirstily. 

Once that was done, his face was wiped clean with a wet bit of hide. Finally able to see (at least blotches of color), Gabriel realized that it was Sam, taking care of him. He remembered his wings, how the tar had gotten on them, and that Sam had just had to pull out all of his feathers. He was _definitely_ going to do something his Father wouldn’t approve of to Lucifer later. 

As his body slowly came out of shock, he realized what it was Sam was saying to him, over and over, and had been saying the entire time. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Gabriel, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry--” Gabriel forced his eyes to focus on Sam’s face, and found that Sam was crying too. He tried to reach up a hand to wipe Sam’s tears away, but found that he hadn’t the strength. 

Gabriel slowly came back to himself--although not all the way, thanks to the substances Sam had given him. He blinked a few times, and then gingerly sat up. He felt Sam help him into position, and then slowly turned his head so he could see what was left of his wings. They were little triangular flaps of skin with a few bones in them. The skin was completely bare of anything and an angry red color. There was some blood here and there, especially where his flight feathers used to be, but the angry red color of the skin outshone it. He looked at the ground, and saw heaps of tar-colored feathers. “Need’t burn ‘ose.” Was he really that hoarse? Had he screamed that much? He could barely understand himself. 

“Okay. I’ll gather them up and get a fire going,” Sam told him. One moment, he couldn’t see Sam, and the next, the shaman was sitting cross-legged in front of him. He felt like his head was full of cotton. “Are you all right, though?” He took one of Gabriel’s hands in his and began chafing his arm, likely trying to improve circulation. Not that Gabriel was able to think such an abstract thought at the moment. 

“Ya,” he croaked, nodding his head a little. The pain was blessedly, blessedly receding, and he was beginning to feel a little numb all over. Sam threw a hide over his legs anyway, and continued his ministrations. 

Sam rubbed both of Gabriel’s arms thoroughly before he stood up to get some wood to start a small fire. “Okay. You tell me if you don’t feel well. You might want to lay on your stomach, too. Do you need help?”

Gabriel shook his head, but made no move to lie down and turn over. He did pull the hide further up his body, though. Sam said nothing as he got a fire started next to Gabriel and then started feeding it Gabriel’s feathers, which went up in smoke rapidly thanks to being covered in the tar. Gabriel found himself enjoying the warmth, which soaked through his sore muscles, although he didn’t enjoy the smell of burning tar and feathers. “Do you want something to eat, or do you want to wait?” Sam asked him. 

Gabriel tried to think about this, and then shook his head no again. He was getting sleepy. He was just conscious enough to realize he shouldn’t lean back on his wings, so he rolled over, pulled the hide up to the base of his wings, laid his head on his arms, and passed out.


	6. Run away and save your life

Gabriel woke up sometime later that day. Sam checked his patient over carefully, and then proceeded to get some food and water into him. Gabriel no longer seemed quite so out of it, and was able to feed himself. Sam was packing up his things when he heard someone or something approaching from the south. He grabbed his spear, and stood between the noise and Gabriel. 

“Sam? Gabriel?” a voice called quietly. 

Sam recognized it, and relaxed. “Cha’r?” he called back, keeping his voice soft as well. 

“Oh, thank the gods, I found you.” Cha’r stepped out from behind a tree trunk some distance away, carrying a large pack on her back, and hurried over to them. “Are you all right?” she asked Gabriel, clearly worried about him. 

“I’ve been better, Rainbow Girl, but I’ll live,” Gabriel replied, giving her a cheeky smile and a wink along with his favorite nickname for her--and keeping his naked wings tucked against his back. Sam suspected he didn’t want Cha’r seeing them the way they were now. 

“Did Dasan send you?” Sam wanted to know, leaning his spear back against the tree. 

“No, but…” Cha’r stopped in front of Sam, face pale, and said, “Makya and Istaqa are dead.” 

“What? How?” Sam demanded, looking stricken. 

“Trampled by a mammoth,” she explained, sorrow in her eyes and her tone. “They brought them back just after you left. They were still alive, but didn’t last long. Don’t feel bad, Sam, you couldn’t have saved them. They were way too far gone.” 

“But I wasn’t there to try,” Sam said flatly. Then, he groaned, as he realized exactly where Cha’r was going with her story. “Because I was out here with Gabe. So Bimisi is telling everyone that this is Gabriel’s fault too?”

Cha’r nodded, giving both of them an apologetic look. “I’m sorry,” she offered. “Dasan and Liseli and I tried everything, but no one will listen. They’re out for blood; Bimisi has told them that the false god needs to be sacrificed. Dasan sent me to track you two down and tell Gabriel it’s not safe for him to come back. He told me to put Gabriel somewhere safe, and make sure he has food and such. Gabriel will need to stay there, at least until everyone calms down.” 

Sam scoffed. “If Gabriel can’t go back to the village, I’m not going back either. I said I’d protect him, and I meant it.” 

Cha’r just beamed up at the taller man. “I knew you’d say that,” she said, setting her pack down. Come to think of it, her pack looked rather overloaded. “So I brought most of your things. And I know the perfect place for you two to stay. There’s a nice cave in the sea cliff not too far from here. The path down isn’t too bad, and at high tide, both sides of the bay are cut off, so you don’t have to worry about anything sneaking up on you. Plus…” She eyed Sam a moment. “...It’s sort of already...it’s got stuff in it. It’s where Adahy stayed, before he was accepted into his new tribe. But please don’t tell Dasan that.” 

“Promise,” Sam told the warrior, giving her a warm smile. “I thought you might have had something to do with his disappearance, but I was better off not knowing. Dasan was certain that I’d helped smuggle him out.” 

“I know,” Cha’r replied with a grin. “That’s why I didn’t tell you.” She looked over at Gabriel, who was drinking from a skin and only half paying attention to them. “Um...how long do you think it’ll be until we can move him? I don’t know how things turned out, but Bimisi had some of the warriors saying that they would come out here and bring Gabriel back. If he convinced them to follow you, they might not be that far behind me.” 

“Okay,” Sam said. “I’m ready to go. Gabriel, do you think you can walk?”

In response, Gabriel pushed himself to his feet, wrapping the hide around himself so Cha’r couldn’t see his wings. He’d apparently rather have the pain of something rubbing against them than anyone but Sam seeing them as they were. “Yeah,” he said. “Maybe even in a straight line, if someone walks next to me.” His voice was still hoarse from all the screaming he’d done. 

Sam glanced at Cha’r, who nodded. “You two start,” she said. “Head toward the ocean. I’ll put out the fire, cover your tracks as best I can and then catch up with you and show you the way down. It’s only a few miles north of here.” 

Gabriel groaned at the prospect of several miles, but Sam quickly shouldered the large pack Cha’r had been carrying, added his own bundle to it, grabbed his spear, and then took one of Gabriel’s elbows to start steering him in the correct direction. “We’ll see you in a little while then, Cha’r. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. See you soon. Feel better, Rainbow Man.” Cha’r gave them a little wave as they left.

“How are you?” Sam asked, as he headed off toward the coast with Gabriel. “How’s the pain?”

“Better. Though I’m pretty sure just about anything would qualify as better than I was.” Now that they were a little ways away from Cha’r, Gabriel lowered the hide so it didn’t rub against his wings. 

“I’m sorry,” Sam said again, shaking his head. “Let me know if you want some more herbs for the pain. I really wish I hadn’t had to do that to you.” 

“Stop apologizing,” Gabriel told the shaman flatly. “You weren’t the one who knocked me into those pits. You just did what had to be done...like resetting a broken arm. Or, maybe more like re-breaking it and then resetting it. Regardless, you were helping. Sometimes you have to hurt someone to help them.” 

“It didn’t feel like I was helping. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone in that much pain, and I’ve stitched up a _lot_ of bad wounds,” Sam replied. 

“Gee, thanks, Sam-jam. Makes me feel all manly and such.” 

“Wasn’t it _you_ who was lecturing _me_ the other day on how manly it was to express your emotions?” Sam retorted. 

“Touché. In that case, I’m the manliest man that ever manned today.” Gabriel’s comment sent them both into an unexpected fit of giggles, and every time one of them would almost stop, they’d look at each other, one of them would mouth the word ‘man,’ and they’d both start laughing again. 

Eventually, they managed to calm down and continue walking. The forest opened up, and soon they found themselves walking along the treeline, not far from the cliffs that led down to the beaches. Sam kept them out of sight inside said treeline, in case anyone besides Cha’r (who could just follow their tracks) was looking for them. 

Sam led them a couple of miles north of where they’d been and then stopped, waiting for Cha’r to catch up. It didn’t take her long to materialize out of the trees behind them. Sam wasn’t particularly surprised when Gabriel wrapped the hide around what was left of his wings again. “Just a little ways further,” she told them, presumably for Gabriel’s sake. He still wasn’t looking well, but Sam was fairly certain that he’d be able to make it the rest of the way. 

Cha’r led them to an area where a different stream had cut its way between the sea cliffs; they were able to walk alongside it down to the beach, which was a mixture of sand and large rocks that jutted out into the ocean--Sam knew that these would be covered in shellfish they could eat. Far above the high-tide line was a large bowl-like cave that had clearly been hollowed out by the ocean when it was much higher than it was now. “It’s not perfect,” Cha’r admitted, “But it’ll keep any rain off, there’s food, and there’s plenty of driftwood to build fires with.”

“It looks great, Cha’r,” Sam replied, giving her a soft smile. “We’re lucky you knew about this place.” 

“No problem at all...hey, Sam? Could you go through the pack and check the cave over to make sure there isn’t anything else you two will need right away? I want to take Gabriel out by the tidepools and show him a few deeper places that are good for spearfishing.” 

“Sure,” Sam replied, adjusting the pack on his back and then heading for the cave. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

Gabriel watched him go, and then turned to Cha’r. “Why do I think this has nothing to do with fish?” he asked--tiredly, but shrewdly. 

“Because it doesn’t,” Cha’r replied, taking him by the elbow and steering him toward where the waves were crashing on the rocks. “Well, not really. I -am- going to show you a few spots.” She glanced behind them, and then stepped out onto the wet rocks with her bare feet. 

Gabriel did the same, but didn’t know how she could manage it--the barnacles and shells and seaweed under his bare feet made him uncomfortable. She didn’t press him to go out too far, though. “Okay. See that spot over there by the rock that looks like a camel’s hump? There’s a deep, shaded pool on the right side of it, and sometimes even big fish get caught in it when the tide goes out. The other good spot is here--you can line yourself up with that bent tree on the cliff--if you walk all the way out to the edge of this rock, it gets a lot deeper and you can stand on the point and spear-fish.” 

Gabriel nodded, watching her out of the corner of his eye as she glanced back over her shoulder. “Okay. So,” she said, lowering her tone conspiratorially and giving him a wink, “Sam likes girls AND boys.” 

Gabriel couldn’t help but snort in response. “And you think I couldn’t have figured that out on my own?” he asked. 

“Not unless you asked Sam very directly. I love him to pieces, but he can be pretty dense sometimes. I think he thinks you just want to be friends with him.”

“I’m a big boy, I can be direct,” Gabriel responded. “Besides,” he added, tossing her a wink, “What makes you think I like boys and not girls?”

Cha’r just laughed. “ _You_ like anything that catches your eye, and almost everything catches your eye. Don’t think I haven’t seen you staring at half the village, including Sam and I.”

“Jealous?” Gabriel grinned at her, but he already knew what her answer would be--which is why he hadn’t done anything _but_ stare at her. 

“ _I_ only like girls,” Cha’r responded primly. “If I liked boys, you wouldn’t be able to get anywhere near Sam, because he’d be mine.” Her smile faded, and she looked back toward the cave again. “Seriously, you make him laugh. And smile. I didn’t think I’d see him do that so soon after ‘Wen died. Just don’t hurt him, because if you do, I will mutilate you so badly that none of the other angels will recognize you.” 

Gabriel, who was using his hands to hold the hide shut, put one of them up in a gesture of peace. “The _last_ thing I want to do is hurt him,” he promised, adopting a perfectly serious tone before grinning at her. “Well. Not like that, anyway. I very well might bite him a time or two.” He gave her a wink. 

Cha’r’s response was another laugh. “ _That’s_ just fine,” she assured him. “C’mon, I’ll show you the cave and make sure you two have everything you need before I leave.” 

Gabriel smirked, and followed her back toward the cave where Sam was already at work setting out their things.


	7. Friends

After Cha’r finally left--she’d spent a bunch of time fussing over them like a mother ground sloth--Sam checked Gabriel’s wings. “The bleeding has completely stopped,” he told the archangel as he gently ran his hands along his wings. “The skin’s still irritated, though. Let me rinse it with this wash I made, then I’ll make a salve and put it on. After that, you should probably rest.” 

“Okay.” Gabriel sounded as if he was half-asleep already. He was laying on the hides that made up Adahy’s old bed; Sam was planning to make a second bed for himself after Gabriel fell asleep. Cha’r had helped Sam gather some fresh evergreen branches to put down as bases for both of the beds. 

“How’s the pain?” Sam asked his patient again. He placed some mammoth fat on a hide he was using to mix the salve and added some dried, crushed yerba leaves on top of that. He began chewing figwort, planning to add that to the mix, as he took the bay leaf rinse from next to the fire where it had been steeping. 

“Tolerable,” Gabriel replied. “Not any worse.” He watched Sam bring the rinse closer, and sat up and scooted over to a spot where the rinse wouldn’t run down onto the bed. The archangel gritted his teeth as Sam slowly poured the warm rinse over both sides of both pairs of wings. 

“Good,” Sam replied around his mouthful of leaves. Setting the now-empty pot to the side, he then spat out his mouthful of chewed leaves into the pile of unmixed salve. He used a stick to mix the three ingredients together. “This is probably going to hurt when I rub it in, but after that it should start feeling better. You can lay back down if you want.” 

“No problemo, Sam-jam,” Gabriel responded. Looking exhausted, he carefully laid back down on the bed on his stomach, keeping his wings up where Sam could reach them. 

Sam began to rub the salve in as gently as he possibly could. Gabriel still made hoarse pained noises, but Sam was at least confident that what he was doing would ultimately make Gabriel feel a lot better. He was still astonished by the appendages, now that he could see the skin and bone structure clearly. They were nearly identical to birds’ wings, only much more massive. He had to resist pressing on them to determine the exact arrangements of the bones--he could do that later, when they were no longer so painful. Assuming Gabriel let him.

By the time Sam had rubbed the salve into both sides of all four wings, Gabriel had fallen asleep. Smiling, Sam covered the angel up with some extra hides--the breeze coming off the water was cool, and the last thing he wanted was for Gabriel to get sick while regrowing his feathers. 

That done, Sam made up his own bed and then began to cook supper for the two of them. Cha’r had left them a rather large hunk of meat from a recent kill, so Sam decided to make a stew out of it. He added fresh cattail roots they’d found along the stream and some greens he’d gathered along the way. He knew they were going to be eating mostly shellfish and seaweed for the foreseeable future, so he didn’t add any of that to the pot. 

Once the stew was simmering, Sam started organizing his healing supplies. He created a going-out pack, just in case there was an emergency back in the village (or somewhere nearby) that he had to carry medical supplies to. Once that was done, he took out a mortar and pestle and started grinding more dried cattail root; he had exhausted his supply on Gabriel. 

\----------------------------------------------------------

“D’you ever take a break?” Whether it was the grinding noise or the smell of food cooking, something had awoken Gabriel. 

“According to you, I can do that when I’m dead,” Sam retorted, continuing to grind the tubers. “How are you feeling?”

Gabriel yawned, and then stretched. “Better,” he admitted as he sat up. “My wings only feel like they were roasted over a _small_ fire, now, even though I think some of the herbs you gave me are wearing off.” If he had learned one thing today, it was that he was _never_ going to go through a full feather-plucking again, no matter how long he lived. 

“Do you want more?” Sam asked. “There’s no reason for you to be in pain.” 

Gabriel considered his options while watching Sam grind the tubers. “Maybe before bed,” he decided. “I’d like to be awake for supper; it smells good.” 

“All right. Well, if it gets to be too painful, just let me know,” Sam said. “You said food would help, though?”

“Yeah. Food, rest, laughter, fun, good companionship--anything that’s good for the soul will help me replenish my grace, which will help me heal and then help my feathers grow out a little faster. At least, that’s the theory,” Gabriel explained, standing up and walking over to poke hopefully at the stew. It smelled good, but wasn’t anywhere near done yet. 

“So I’m supposed to keep you entertained as well?” Sam’s mischievous smile and his tone indicated he was just teasing. “I thought you wanted me to take a break from all my work, and now here you want me to tell you stories, too.”

Gabriel had to admit Sam had a point, and while he could think of various life-affirming activities that would qualify as both entertainment and a break, he was too sore and tired to push his luck. “Maybe I should tell you a story instead,” he decided, searching through his memory for a good one. “Oh man. This one time, Mikey was going to give this big speech to all the angels in Heaven, who had lined up on this huge parade ground. He’d been using us to practice this speech, so I knew that about halfway through, when he was really getting into it, he was going to turn around and point to this specific tree and put his back to all the angels. He was using his true form, so he was huge and everyone could see him all at once. I--” Gabriel was already chuckling to himself, “I totally wrote, ‘Wind comes out of both my ends,’ and drew an arrow to his ass on his backplate before I helped him put it on--”

They were both laughing now. Sam had stopped his work, unable to continue. “You didn’t!” he gasped. “In front of your whole tribe?”

“I did!” Gabriel was rather proud of himself. “Though hardly any of them laughed. You humans have _much_ better senses of humor. It’s one of the many reasons I like you.”

“When--when Dasan--” Sam stumbled over the words, because he was still chuckling. “After his manhood ceremony, we knew he’d sleep really hard the next night, so we, we took him from his new lean-to and put him back in amongst all the children and--” Sam was gasping, “and he--when he woke up, he clearly thought the ceremony had been a dream or something, so he went around with the other children doing children’s stuff all day until one of the adults asked him about it. It was beautiful.”

Gabriel was now doubled over in laughter, holding his knees to his chest. “Oh--oh Father,” he said at the mental image. “I bet you never let him forget that.”

“Still haven’t. In fact, next time you see him--” and then Sam sobered up, because he remembered where they were and that it might be a long time before he saw Dasan again, “...well, if you see him again, call him Dee-dee. That was his child name.” 

“Oh, Father, ‘Dee-dee.’” Gabriel was clearly planning to have some fun with this, judging by the way his eyes were twinkling. He sat up again, grinning at Sam. “And what was _your_ child name?”

Sam was too tan to blush scarlet, but he did a fair impression of it. “Not telling.”

Gabriel’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Oh, come on, Sam-yam. You know I’ll just get it out of Cha’r next time she comes. Might as well get it over with,” he cajoled, standing up and walking over so he could take the mortar and pestle from Sam’s limp hands. He walked back to his bed, sat down, and began attempting to use it--he was going to have to learn how to be helpful, after all. 

Sam heaved a sigh, and glared at Gabriel. “Sammy,” he admitted finally. “But if you ever--”

“If I ever what, Sammy? Use it to refer to you, Sammy? I can assure you, Sammy, I’d never do that,” Gabriel taunted, his smirk enormous. “I love it. Sammy.” 

Sam groaned. “Gods damn it,” he muttered, while Gabriel laughed again. “You’re as bad as my older brother. And Cha’r. Rolled into one.” He went to look at the stew, stirred it, and then left it where it was before he took out the saber toothed tiger pelt Cha’r had brought and began carefully scraping it. There was, unfortunately, always more work to do. 

“I’ve had worse backhanded compliments,” Gabriel responded. He’d only been grinding the root into powder for a little while, and already his wrist was hurting. How did these humans do it? He’d only been (sort of) human for a handful of days, and he hated it. You couldn’t go anywhere, you couldn’t snap up anything you wanted, and you had to work all the time just to feed yourself. What _had_ his father been thinking? Still, he found himself liking these beings despite himself. Although some of them (Bimisi, for example) were total assholes, so were some (most?) of the other angels, and there were good humans like Sammy and Cha’r as well. 

The two talked and joked until the stew...well, it wasn’t completely done when they finally ate it, and Gabriel was impatient enough that he burned his tongue. He didn’t care.


	8. To lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The smut you've all been waiting for :).

A few days later, Gabriel’s wings turned the corner from sore to itchy. Part of the sensation was due to the fact that the skin was healing, but the new, tiny bits of feathers poking out from his skin were also itchy. The result was driving him crazy. He was out working to try to get his mind off of it, using an obsidian knife to scrape shellfish off some rocks exposed by low tide and put the mollusks in a large leather pouch. Sam was out above the cliffs gathering greens, roots, and herbs for his medicine, as he said he needed to replenish his stores. Gabriel felt a little guilty for using those up. 

Gabriel’s work was obnoxiously tedious. The cold water chilled his hands, and he kept narrowly avoiding cutting himself with the extremely sharp blade Sam said they’d traded some stuff with a more inland tribe for. He dropped it a time or two as well, and had to fish it out of the water, which was constantly moving back and forth around his ankles and calves as the waves came in. He knew it would be even worse, later, when he had to pry the snot-like beings out of their thick shells, though he’d finally gotten the hang of that a few days ago. Why his father had created these disgusting animals… 

But, Gabriel had to admit, between the shellfish and the seaweed, he and Sam had plenty of food. Sam, being a giant, could eat a lot, and Gabriel was almost constantly hungry due to his lack of grace. Most of the grace he was regenerating was going directly into feather growth, though he kept a tiny bit in reserve, just in case. 

His thoughts strayed to Sam. He was having a hard time reading the other man; Cha’r had told him that Sam like-liked both men and women, but Gabriel couldn’t really tell if Sam liked _him_ as anything more than a friend. Normally, Gabriel would have made his intentions abundantly clear by now, but he had wanted to be less dependent on Sam before doing so, in case he embarrassed himself enough that he had to leave. Gabriel had also wanted to give Sam enough time to grieve the loss of his previous lover--Sam still cried himself to sleep occasionally, when he thought Gabriel was asleep. 

Gabriel dropped the knife again and noticed that the water was getting higher when he stuck his arm in to retrieve it after he was finished swearing in Enochian. It was probably time to move a bit closer to shore--Sam had warned him to never underestimate the ocean, even if it was clear and calm like it was today, and Gabriel knew Sam was a great deal more world-wise than he was. Gabriel wasn’t sure his pride could take the human rescuing him a second time. Besides, he was considering much more pleasant ways to drain the energy out of Sam. 

While he made his way over to a different spot, Gabriel went over a few of these in his head, and finally made up his mind. Somehow, he’d make Sam tell him how he felt about him later today, and with any luck Gabriel would wake up next to Sam in the morning, like he’d wanted to ever since he set eyes on those shoulders of his. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam returned to the cave later in the day carrying an armful of firewood as well as several pouches stuffed with the products of his gathering. He’d found a wild cherry tree with ripe fruit and picked a bag of them. Gabriel enjoyed sweets; he’d had nothing but negative things to say about Oregon grapes, and had waxed poetic about why his father would ever make fruit that wasn’t sweet. 

When Sam walked into the cave, Gabriel was shelling mussels and tossing them into a pot on the fire. The honey-haired man looked up, and gave Sam a dazzling smile. “Hello, Sammy,” he greeted, having traded his rhyming scheme for the childhood nickname. 

“Hello, Gabe.” Sam hated to admit it, but he was beginning to like the fact that Gabriel called him that. Regardless, Sam was tired, and he stretched and cracked his back after letting the firewood fall to the floor of the cave. He then set his various pouches aside--lining them up in the order he’d need to deal with the contents. “How are you?”

“I’m great. Look, my new feathers are finally coming out.” Gabriel knew that Sam knew this already, but he still stretched his largest pair of wings across the space between them so that Sam could get a better look. 

Sam smiled, and looked closely, reaching out to stroke a hand across the wing. Gabriel shivered, though Sam didn’t seem to notice it. “That’s good, I’m glad. Oh, I brought you a present,” Sam added, picking up the pouch containing the cherries and handing it over to the archangel. “Since you didn’t like the grapes.” 

“ _Those_ weren’t grapes. One of these days I’ll show you _real_ grapes.” Gabriel took the pouch and looked inside. His eyes promptly lit up. “Cherries!” He wasted no time sticking one into his mouth, and groaned as he bit into it. “Oh Father, these are amazing.”

“I’m glad you like them.” Sam pulled his right shoulder forward with one of his enormous hands. His shoulder had tightened as he’d walked with the wood, and it hurt. He was starting to get old, he supposed. 

Gabriel noticed, spitting the cherry pit into the fire. “Back hurt?” he asked, standing up. His amber-colored eyes were full of mischief. “I can help with that. Lie down on your stomach.” When Sam hesitated slightly, Gabriel put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I’ll only make it feel better, I promise, and it’s time for you to take a break.” 

Sam was wary of a prank, but lay down on his bed anyway. He knew Gabriel wouldn’t hurt him. He hadn’t been sure, earlier, when Gabriel had promised not to hurt the rest of the tribe if Sam could trust his word, but in the intervening days Sam realized that Gabriel had meant what he’d said. 

Sam felt Gabriel straddle his hips, and then the archangel’s hands came down onto his back. “Just relax, Sammy,” Gabriel said quietly as he started to massage Sam, beginning with the muscles along Sam’s neck. 

It took a few moments, but eventually Sam did relax into Gabriel’s hands, which felt quite good. Gabriel started out rubbing softly, but then dug his fingers into the exact places where Sam’s muscles had become too tense, stretching them and giving Sam relief from the pain he hadn’t even really realized he’d been carrying around. Each time Gabriel hit a particularly painful spot, Sam groaned. 

Sam hissed when Gabriel got to the spot along the edge of his shoulder blade that was causing most of the problems. Sam felt Gabriel pause, and then he felt soft lips press against the spot before clever fingers dug back into the muscle in order to get the knot out. Sam was surprised, but pleased, by the gesture. Sam liked the angel. He wasn’t over Awendela, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want any company. And Gabriel was good company. The two were opposites in many ways, yet agreed on important things. He loved Gabriel’s stories, and he had to admit that Gabriel was doing his best to do his share of the work, even though it was clear that the angel was not used to it. At first, Gabriel had been too strange and too powerful to really think about mating with, but now Sam saw him for who he was and just thought his looks were pleasantly exotic.

Gabriel worked on Sam’s back for quite a while, getting up at one point to put more water in the cooking pot so the ever-present shellfish and seaweed delight didn’t burn. By the end of the back massage, Sam felt like putty, and it took him a little while to roll over when Gabriel finally told him to do so. Sam wasn’t sure what Gabriel was planning to do with his front, but he found out soon enough when the archangel, hovering above him, leaned down to press his lips against Sam’s. 

Sam hadn’t really expected it, but Gabriel had moved slowly enough that Sam had time to pull away if he wanted. Instead, Sam let Gabriel kiss him--partly just because he wanted to see how it felt. Gabriel had grown out a beard, and Sam wasn’t used to facial hair. It felt strange against his mouth. Not bad, just strange. Sam also wasn’t expecting the way his heavy heart leaped in his chest and began beating strongly. Apparently, he was more attracted to the archangel than he’d realized. When Gabriel started to pull away, Sam chased his lips and pressed his against the archangel’s more firmly. He felt Gabriel smile and then open his mouth. Sam opened his, too, and they deepened the kiss-tentatively at first, and then with more ardor. 

Gabriel settled down on top of Sam, pressing his growing erection into Sam’s lower abdomen. Sam pulled back from the kiss for a few heartbeats in order to regain his breath, looking up at the archangel above him. Gabriel’s beautiful golden eyes were thin rings of amber around black, and his soft hands were running slowly up and down Sam’s chest and sides. Sam wasn’t used to hands without calluses, and he found the sensation intriguing, much as he did the feeling of Gabriel’s beard on his face. Sam tentatively grasped Gabriel’s waist with his hands, and then leaned up so they could continue kissing. Sam had to admit; Gabriel was the most talented kisser he’d ever met, and he wondered idly just how talented Gabriel was in other, related areas.

They kissed until Sam was out of breath again, and then Gabriel started kissing his way down Sam’s throat, paying particular attention to his Adam’s apple. After some time, he raised his head to look down at Sam. “Let me take care of you, Sammy. Please.” His voice was rough; Sam loved the sound of it.

Sam might have overthought everything or felt guilty about doing this so soon after Awendela’s death, had he not been so relaxed from the earlier massage. Instead, he nodded his assent, and then allowed his hands to roam more freely over Gabriel’s back and shoulders. When one of his hands accidentally made contact with Gabriel’s oil gland, Gabriel made the filthiest noise Sam had ever heard--so, of course, Sam kept rubbing at the gland. The archangel gave him a mock glare and then leaned down to take Sam’s breath away with more kisses. One of Gabriel’s hands began to focus on Sam’s nipples, while the other slid down between them to start removing their loincloths. 

Sam let out a moan that Gabriel swallowed, and then returned the favor, moving his hands around to Gabriel’s front to rub at both of his nipples with his thumbs. This made the archangel squirm on top of him, and Sam chuckled. Gabriel’s nimble fingers made short work of their garments, and soon he sat up, giving Sam even better access to his chest. Sam took full advantage of this, while Gabriel scooted back so their lengths were rubbing against one another. They both groaned at the feeling. 

Gabriel smirked down at Sam. “Stay right there, agave,” he said, before crawling backwards until his mouth was level with Sam’s erection. Keeping his eyes locked on Sam’s, he began to kiss and lick up and down Sam’s length, running his hands along Sam’s inner thighs--which were smooth, thanks to the ‘wax’ he had undergone after wading in the tar pit. 

Sam kept eye contact with Gabriel as long as he could, but when Gabriel actually wrapped his mouth around Sam’s cock, the shaman threw his head backwards and moaned. Sam had been right--kissing was not Gabriel’s _only_ talent. His hands fisted themselves in Gabriel’s hair of their own accord, and for a time he just lost himself in sensation as the archangel did some _very_ sinful things with his mouth and his hands. “Oh, _gods_ , Gabriel,” he managed to pant out. 

Gabriel started humming around him, and Sam nearly lost it right then and there. The hum turned into a chuckle, and the archangel pulled off after squeezing the base of Sam’s length. “Not yet,” he told Sam, crawling up the larger man until he could kiss his mouth again. “I want you inside me when you lose it,” he whispered, staring down at Sam with nearly-black eyes. His hair had fallen forward, and framed his face beautifully. When Sam tried to lean up for another kiss, however, Gabriel instead sat up and set a hand on Sam’s chest to stop him following. Watching Sam closely, he took hold of Sam’s length, lined it up with his hole, and then slowly started sliding down. He was slick inside--later, when Sam’s brains had returned to his head, he’d realize that Gabriel had used his wing oil to open himself up. 

Sam groaned. “Oh _gods_ ,” he repeated. Gabriel wasn’t like the women he’d been with; the feeling was different and yet similar all at the same time. Sam hadn’t ever gone this far with a man, so this was entirely new to him. He decided he liked it, as Gabriel slowly started rocking himself up and down on top of him. Once Gabriel’s pace sped up a bit, Sam began thrusting up into the smaller man, causing absolutely delicious noises to come out of the archangel’s mouth. He noticed that Gabriel’s wings flared out, and remembered the oil gland and how sensitive Gabriel’s wings had been. 

Sam sat up, prompting Gabriel to let out a choked whimper as the angle between them changed. Grinning, Sam reached around the angel with both his hands, and started massaging the oil gland. He found that the oil there was already flowing freely, and doused his right hand in it before reaching up to run his oil-covered hand along the top of Gabriel’s left uppermost wing. 

Gabriel keened in pleasure, and his rhythm faltered as Sam refused to let up the pressure on his oil gland and wings. Moments later Gabriel screamed, “SAM!” as he painted the shaman’s chest with thick, white ropes of ejaculate. 

Sam didn’t last much longer, finishing with a long, drawn-out groan as he wrapped his arms around Gabriel and held him tight. They stayed that way, both panting, for a little while. Eventually, though, Sam flopped bonelessly back to the bed. 

Gabriel slowly pulled himself off of Sam, and then leaned down to give the shaman a long, slow kiss. “Mmmmm,” he said. “I think we both needed that.” 

“Gods, yes,” Sam mumbled. 

Laughing, Gabriel got up to move the pot off the fire (the water was dangerously low again) before wiping himself off with a spare hide and then walking over to wipe Sam down and then cuddle up next to him. Sam wrapped the archangel in his arms before dozing off, and couldn’t help but notice that Gabriel was the perfect size to nestle under his chin. 

\-----------------------------------------------------

Later, Gabriel woke Sam with a kiss, and then began to feed him bits of the overcooked shellfish (which had cooled considerably as they napped) from his hands. Sam seemed to be boneless, still, which Gabriel took to mean that his partner had thoroughly enjoyed himself. “This is the most relaxed I’ve ever seen you,” he mocked, before leaning down to kiss away some drops of broth that had fallen on Sam’s face. 

Sam turned his head to kiss Gabriel back, and smiled warmly. “You give a good back massage,” he teased, reaching up to run a hand through Gabriel’s hair. 

Gabriel snorted, sat up, and faux-punched Sam’s shoulder. “That better not be the -only- compliment you have for me, Sammy, or I’ve lost my touch,” he grumbled.

“It isn’t.” Sam sobered, though he was still smiling. “That was amazing. Thank you. You were right, I did need that.” 

“My pleasure--literally,” Gabriel responded with a wicked grin. “If we keep this up, I bet my feathers will be back in no time at all.” 

“Yeah?” Sam replied. “But then you’ll fly away and forget all about me.” He hadn’t meant anything by the words; they had slipped out before he’d thought about them. 

Gabriel’s expression turned serious. Well, more serious, at any rate. “No, Sam. I won’t. I could never forget you.” He wasn’t a master of words like Luci, so he leaned down and let a kiss do the talking for him--and he turned out to be quite eloquent. 

Supper was put on hold for a time as they explored the idea to their mutual satisfaction, and that night they slept in each other’s arms--just as Gabriel had hoped (and planned) that morning.


	9. Visits and interludes

When Cha’r showed up a few weeks later to check on them, she just smirked when she noticed that their two separate beds had become one large one. She gave Gabe the prehistoric version of a thumbs up when Sam’s back was turned, and he winked in response. “So,” Gabriel asked her, “What’s going on back in crazy village?”

Cha’r sighed. “Nothing good,” she admitted, helping herself to a handful of cherries that Gabriel had left out. “Bimisi has convinced most of the villagers that they should kill you on sight. He’s moved into Sam’s old place, and is absolutely insufferable. Dasan’s tried to put a stop to it, but he doesn’t have enough people on his side.”

“What’s he doing besides preaching against Gabriel?” Sam wanted to know, turning back around and then sitting down on their bed. Gabriel sat next to him, and the taller man immediately put his arm around the archangel. Gabriel loved the fact that Sam liked to snuggle--sometimes, it was almost as good as the sex (not that he’d ever admit it).

“Mostly asking for outrageous things in the name of the gods. He wants families to donate at least half of their food until the next full moon so he can ‘sacrifice’ it in place of Gabriel to appease the gods.” Her jaw visibly tightened. “There are people going _hungry_ now because of that idiot.” 

“What does he do when someone doesn’t donate?” Sam asked, his face a mask of concern. Gabriel started rubbing Sam’s back, knowing how much Sam cared for his villagers--even though, in Gabriel’s opinion, most of them didn’t deserve it. 

“Sometimes they have accidents, although nothing Dasan or I can prove was due to Bimisi or his friends,” Cha’r grimaced. “Sometimes he just predicts that horrible things will happen to them in front of everyone. He hasn’t done it to Dasan or those close to him, but it’s clear he’s working his way up to it. That man is poison.” Cha’r spat a cherry pit into the fire for emphasis. 

“He’ll be sorry when I get my powers back,” Gabriel interjected. He gave Sam a sidelong glance, and then shrugged. “I may have promised not to hurt the villagers, but I’m making an exception for him since he’s trying to talk other people into trying to kill me.” 

Sam just snorted in response to Gabriel’s assertion; he likely suspected the truth--if he attempted to forbid it, Gabriel would ignore him. “Cha’r...you know that if there are any real emergencies, you can come get me, right? That man barely knows what he’s doing when it comes to medicine.” 

Cha’r nodded at Gabriel, clearly agreeing with his sentiment, and then turned back to Sam. “I will, Sam, you know I will. There hasn’t been anything major since you left, though if you’re right and going hungry for long periods of time is dangerous, we might have some illness soon.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Sam said, shaking his head. “Look, Cha’r, we’re doing all right here by ourselves. You don’t need to bring us anything, if it means you could feed people back in the village.” 

Cha’r showed her teeth. “I figured that was the case, and that we could trade,” she suggested. “Shellfish for some camel meat? Seaweed for some inland plants?”

“Oh Father yes,” groaned Gabriel. “Please, Sam. Please say yes. I’m so tired of eating things that feel like snot in my mouth.” 

Sam laughed, and hugged Gabriel closer. “Yes, then,” he told Cha’r. “We can trade.”

“Perfect,” Cha’r told them, before rolling her eyes to the ceiling to consider her next words as she tapped one hand with another. “Let’s see, what else. Liseli is getting huge again. I still don’t know why anyone would do that to themselves. Dasan is mother-slothing her in the worst way possible--if he’s not careful, she’s going to kill him one of these days. Their children are all fine. I think you should think about taking on little Rotag as an apprentice. He just isn’t very excited about becoming a warrior, and Dasan doesn’t quite know what to make of him.”

Sam considered this, and then nodded. “He’s smart, too. He’d make a good shaman. Yeah, I can start training him. If we’re ever allowed back, of course.” 

“Oh, you will be, even if Dasan and I have to leave and found our own village. Dasan’s talked about it, but he really can’t do anything with Liseli as pregnant as she is right now,” Cha’r replied with a nod. “But I still have hope for some of those who are following Bimisi. I think most of them are just scared, and it’s not as if he’s giving them much in the way of options.” 

“If only I had my grace,” Gabriel groaned. “I’d be able to fix all of this with a snap of my fingers.”

Sam snorted. “Welcome to being human, Gabe,” he said, pressing a kiss to Gabriel’s hair. “We can’t just do anything we want.” 

“I’m _so_ talking to Father about that,” Gabriel grumbled, making both Cha’r and Sam laugh. 

Cha’r’s eyes were twinkling. “Soooo...you two are a thing now?” 

Sam rolled his eyes at her. “Yeah. Let me guess, you had a hand in this somehow.”

“Who, me?” Cha’r asked, setting a hand to her breast and fluttering her eyelashes. “Just because I’m the one who found ‘Wen in that other tribe and convinced her to come meet you doesn’t mean I had anything to do with him.” Sam just gave her a flat look, and she laughed. “Okay, okay, think of me as your guardian spirit. Always taking care of my boys.” She pointed at Gabriel. “You’re one of mine now, too, just so you know. I collect them.” 

Gabriel grinned, and winked at her. “Rainbow Girl, I’ll be yours anytime you want me. Ow!” he exclaimed, as Sam pinched his arm, hard. 

“You be good,” Sam told him in a mock-stern voice. 

“That _was_ good!” Gabriel protested, but he leaned up to give Sam a quick kiss. 

“Okay,” Cha’r said. “I should probably get back before anyone wonders where I am. I’ll say I met someone from the village to the north and traded food with them. You two--stay safe. I’ll be back when I can.” 

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that week, Sam managed to bring down a ground sloth with Dasan’s old bow while he was out gathering. Sam and Gabriel proceeded to feast on the roasted meat until they were both slightly ill. Once they had recovered, they began cleaning the hide using stone scrapers. It was messy, and Gabriel found it a little disgusting, but he had learned that human life was very much messy and a little disgusting. At least they’d have something other than snot to eat for a while; Sam had already hung most of the rest of the meat over the fire to dry. 

Sam looked up at one point, and noticed that Gabriel was wearing a face of intense concentration that was incongruously covered in bits of fat and fur. He burst out laughing, causing Gabriel to look up in annoyance. “What?” Gabriel demanded. Sam couldn’t help it; he just laughed harder. 

Gabriel glared at him and tried to wipe his face, but just ended up smearing the various bits around. When Sam wouldn’t stop laughing, Gabriel took the high road (for Gabriel): he grabbed the bits that he’d already scraped off of the hide and flung them at Sam, spattering his chest and face with bits of sloth. 

Sam yelped in surprise, and then retaliated. The sort-of-but-not-really-food fight ultimately turned into a fairly well-matched wrestling competition (Sam was larger, but Gabriel was faster and more maneuverable...not to mention greased). Of course, this led to sex, which turned out to be surprisingly gentle. Afterward, because they were both covered in bits of sloth, they went to a sandier portion of the beach to clean themselves off. 

“Wow, Gabriel, your feathers are really growing,” Sam noted, as the light hit Gabriel’s wings. “You won’t be able to see the skin at all in a few weeks, if this keeps up.” Sam was fascinated by the feather-growing process, and took every opportunity to watch it happen up close. He’d discovered that the feathers came out with tiny white sheaths around them, which turned into powder, at which point the tips of each of the feathers were revealed, already colored. Gabriel’s flight feathers were still very short, but the softer feathers on the upper- and undersides of the wings were growing quickly. Several were almost an inch long, now. Sam assumed that they were growing so fast because Gabriel had plenty of food, rest, and now, Sam. 

Gabriel twisted around to take a look for himself, then smiled up at Sam. “You’re good for me,” he said simply.

Sam gave him a smile in return, before leaning forward to give his lover a quick kiss. “And you’re good for me.”

“Damn straight I am, Sam-yam,” Gabriel responded, back to his old rhyming scheme. “If I weren’t here, you’d work yourself to death every other day. I swear, I have _never_ met such an industrious human. Those villagers have absolutely no idea how lucky they were to have you.” He turned around, and started helping Sam wash off.

Sam stared down at the angel, fondness in his gaze. “And you’re the first one to make that seem normal. Everyone else seems to think I’m some kind of a freak, but you...you think it’s cute. Plus, you always manage to pull me out of my own head when I’m in too deep.”

“You do think too much,” Gabriel admitted, just before hooking a leg around Sam’s and using the leverage from the new position of his hip to push Sam over into the shallow water. Sam shrieked, surprised, but promptly splashed water up at Gabriel, and soon they were having a water fight, which didn’t end until they were both panting. 

\------------------------------------------------------

A few weeks passed before Cha’r visited again. Gabriel’s feathers completely covered the skin of his wings now, although they still didn’t look much like birds’ wings. At the rate his grace was replenishing (largely thanks to Sam), he and Sam estimated that it would be only a couple of years before he regained his ability to fly. He’d already promised to show Sam the world once he could fly again, and Sam was looking forward to going to some of the exotic places Gabriel told him about. 

When Cha’r arrived, she was in a bad mood, all her usual levity gone from her stance as she walked up to the cave’s entrance. “You have to come back, Sam,” she said without preamble. “He’s--Gods, I’m not even sure you’ll believe me.” 

Sam took a deep breath, and let it out slowly as he sat down on the floor of the cave and gestured for her to sit on their bed. “What’s he doing, Cha’r? What’s wrong?”

Her face was paler than usual as she took a seat. “He’s… I don’t even know where to start,” she admitted. “He’s basically letting the men of the tribe bribe him to choose one of their daughters as his mate. The girls they’re talking about are _way_ too young.” Her face paled, and she made a distressed noise. “And he’s been trying to break up some established mates, claiming that the gods don’t like the pairings that you blessed. He--he’s said that women shouldn’t be allowed to be each other’s mates, that they should all be taking care of the males, because that’s their proper place. They don’t _dare_ touch me and Cholena because they know I’ll kill them, but some of the others give her a hard time when I’m not with her. That means I can’t go out as much, and Dasan… he’s losing supporters. Bimisi keeps telling stories about how the shaman used to also be the chief of the tribe, and he’s slowly convincing people to follow him instead of Dasan. Dasan isn’t being smart about how he reacts to any of it, not the way he would be if you were there to advise him, so people aren’t showing him as much respect.” 

Gabriel whistled, long and low. “If only I had my grace…” Sure, he’d held some of it back, but not enough to do anything particularly impressive.

Sam leaned back, clearly distressed by the information he’d just heard, yet still thinking. “I...what can I do, Cha’r? You’ve said that they’ll kill Gabriel if they see him. What about me?”

“I...don’t know,” Cha’r answered, her tone dejected. “He’s made it known that any man who manages to kill Gabriel will jump to the top of the list of people who might get to give him their daughter.” She physically gagged after she said the phrase, and made a face. “If they could get you alone and make it look like an accident...I suspect a few of them would be willing to kill you, too.”

Sam looked as if he was mulling this over, then shook his head. “I’m alone a lot. And if he’s made them this angry with Gabriel, they’ll be angry with me, too.”

Sam and Cha’r clearly had no good solutions, so Gabriel offered to help. “Tell you what,” he said. “I can stop growing my feathers for a while--it won’t hurt them in the long run, I promise, Sam--and save up my grace. Then, I can do something spectacular enough to convince everyone Bimisi doesn’t know anything about me and what I can do. Like maybe exploding him into a million tiny pieces. This…daughter thing…will it happen soon? Or can we wait a few weeks?”

“He’ll probably drag it out a few more weeks, yeah,” replied Cha’r. “But we’re also worried about another thing--he’s started saying that the gods will punish Dasan and his family for not contributing to his ‘sacrifice,’ and he seems so _certain_ when he’s saying it that something awful will happen. I’ve been guarding them as much as I can, but I’m worried he or his friends are planning to hurt Dasan’s family.”

“Maybe I _should_ go back with you,” Sam said. “I could at least help guard Dasan and his family, and I’d be one more voice against Bimisi.” 

Cha’r chewed on her lip, looked between Sam and Gabriel, and then shook her head. “No,” she replied slowly. “No, if you come, you’ll just be another target we have to protect. If Gabriel really will be able to stop him in a few weeks… I think we should wait.”

Sam looked between his two friends. “Gabe? Are you sure you can persuade everyone if we wait?”

Gabriel considered it. He knew about how much grace returned to him each day, and if he put his feather growth on hold… He nodded slowly. “I should be able to. I may need some backup if I use up all of my grace, but as long as the warriors are mostly still on Dasan’s side…” Here, he looked toward Cha’r for confirmation. 

She nodded promptly. “Yes. Not all of them, but enough. It’s mostly the non-warrior males who are behind Bimisi. Not surprising there, since he’s never learned how to fight, but Askook, who’s an older warrior, has always been one of Bimisi’s friends and has talked several warriors around to their side.”

Sam shook his head in disagreement when Cha’r said Bimisi couldn’t fight. “That’s not true. He can’t fight that well with weapons, but he has magic, and he fights with words. Whatever we do, when we eventually do it...we can’t let him speak. In fact...could you take away his voice, Gabriel?” Sam looked over at his lover.

Gabriel slowly widened his grin. “Of course I can. That won’t even require much juice.”

“Perfect!” Cha’r exclaimed. “If he can’t argue or yell at anyone, it’ll be obvious just how much of a coward he really is. Then, Sam could take him down. Sam, do you think you could use magic? It’d be more impressive that way.” 

Once again, Sam shook his head. “I don’t know many spells that hurt people,” he explained. “And even if I did...I’m not sure I could use them on an old man, no matter what he’s done. It’s probably best just to exile him once Gabriel’s taken away his ability to speak.”

“You’re no fun,” Cha’r grumbled, but she was nodding thoughtfully. “But I don’t think we can exile him. Think about what he’d do--he’d go to the nearest tribe, and start spreading his poison. If they let him in, we could end up in an all-out war with them, and that’s the last thing we want.” She showed her true inner strength when she said, “Someone’s going to have to kill him. I’ll talk to Dasan, have him prepared to order one of us to do it. You know he’s done plenty over the years to deserve it,” she said, as Sam opened his mouth to protest. “We may not have been able to prove much, but you _know_ he had something to do with Tansy’s drowning. And that family who disappeared when we were young.” 

Sam sighed, but nodded. “I hate it, but...you’re right. If we let him go, we’d be killing him anyway, unless one of the other tribes takes him in.”

“Heeeeeey, angel willing to blow him into smithereens sitting right here,” Gabriel pointed out with a wave. “No need for someone else to kill him; I can do that.” 

Sam tilted his head to the side, as he turned toward Gabriel again. “And how much of your magic would that take, Gabe?”

Gabriel made a face. “Probably more than I can gather in a few weeks,” he confessed. “But you have to admit, it’d make for a good show. No one would doubt what the ‘gods’ want then. Ooh. What if I just exploded his head? That’d take less grace.”

Cha’r looked intrigued, while Sam looked slightly ill. “Let’s wait and see how much time we have,” he proposed. “If it’s enough time for you to get enough grace to do that, then...sure. If not, though, just silence him and then Dasan can order his execution. All right?”

“All right, Sammy,” Gabriel replied, rolling his eyes. 

Cha’r snorted upon hearing the childhood nickname. “He lets you call him that?” she asked Gabriel, her tone incredulous. “He doesn’t even let _me_ call him that.”

Gabriel eyed Sam, who had stood up and was walking toward him. “Um. Sort of?” he said, scrambling to his feet and putting his hands out in a pacifying gesture. “I didn’t mean to say it in front of Cha’r, Sam, really. I’m sorry?” He did his best to look cute as Sam advanced on him. 

“Oh, you’re going to be,” Sam promised, his eyes glinting as Gabriel backed away from him. “Cha’r? Are we good?”

“Yes, I’ll wait until Bimisi makes a decision on the girls to come back and get you two,” she promised, as she got to her feet and collected her things, which included ‘trading’ with them. “Or until he does something else that’s horrible. I’ll give you as much time as I can. Is that all right?”

“No, really, stay,” Gabriel pleaded with Cha’r, as Sam caught him around the waist and pulled the angel to him, back to Sam’s front. “You’re not, um...we’d love the company?” he squeaked. 

Sam leaned down to growl an order in Gabriel’s ear. “Tell the nice warrior goodbye, angel.” 

Cha’r was clearly trying not to laugh. “You two have fun--but wait until I’m out of earshot, okay?” she pleaded, waving and then making her way out. 

“Bye, Cha’r,” Gabriel called weakly. 

Sam stuck to his word, and waited until Cha’r was out of earshot (he said a mental prayer for the existence of the surf, which quickly drowned out any sound as you moved away from the beach) to give a bratty archangel a _very_ thorough spanking.


	10. The beginning of the end

Both Sam and Gabriel assumed the issue was settled--which is why, when they heard Cha’r’s voice screaming their names not three nights later, they woke up in a fair amount of confusion. Sam was more used to this sort of thing, and immediately moved to dress and pick up his going-out pouch. “Cha’r?” he yelled back, as Gabriel began looking around for his loincloth. He quickly made himself decent and dashed out of the cave, following Sam. 

When Cha’r reached Sam, there was blood on her hands and arms and tears in her eyes. She looked as if she’d sprinted the whole five or six miles from the village to the camp. “Liseli,” she was panting, when Gabriel finally made his way over to them. “Giving birth. Bleeding everywhere. Too much.” She waved one hand around as she gasped for air, to indicate the magnitude of the problem. She was carrying a torch in her other, which she handed to Sam. “Go. I’ll catch up.”

Sam grabbed the torch, and sprinted away up the streambed. Gabriel paused. “Are you okay?” he asked Cha’r, but she just waved him on. Gabriel followed Sam up the bank. With Sam’s long legs, there was no way Gabriel was going to be able to keep up, but he could follow Sam’s trail. He didn’t have a light source, but luckily angels didn’t really need one to see in the dark. (He’d been amused when he’d realized that Sam _still_ hadn’t caught on to this fact, despite their regular nocturnal activities.)

Gabriel paced himself. He was much better at walking and running now than he had been, but he knew it was a long way to the village. Indeed, he was panting hard once he finally made it. He was glad that there weren’t guards on duty (aside from the dogs, who just barked at him); perhaps they had followed Sam in. He could hear a woman’s anguished screams, and assumed it was Liseli. He headed for them, passing knots of agitated men and children who only belatedly seemed to realize who he was. Some cried out, and tried to follow him, but he had too much momentum for them to catch hold of him. 

Once he was past the men and children, he had to go by what seemed like nearly every woman in the village. They were all crowded around Dasan’s lean-to, and made much less of a fuss than the men did when he shouldered his way through them. When Gabriel finally broke into a cleared-out area, he found Liseli in the middle. She was giving birth, extremely pale, and bleeding much more than necessary--even he could tell that, despite being ‘human’ for only a few weeks. Dasan was beside Liseli, holding her small hand in one of his, tears falling down his cheeks. Sam was in the process of catching the baby. Gabriel knew nothing about babies, and thus couldn’t assess its condition. What he _was_ able to assess, however, was the gloating Bimisi was doing. He was standing a few feet away from Liseli, looking down at her with a smirk on his face. Gabriel wanted to wipe it off, but he knew that wasn’t where he was needed. 

Gabriel went down on his knees by Liseli, opposite Dasan. He managed to make eye contact with Sam, who was looking horrified. “Can you stop the bleeding?” Gabriel asked, already knowing what the answer was, and what his response was going to be. 

Sam looked up, tears in his eyes, and shook his head once in the negative. Gabriel nodded in response. “I love you,” he told Sam, choking up slightly as he turned to put a couple of fingers on Liseli’s forehead. She was already slipping into unconsciousness, so he used every bit of his reserve grace to heal her, plus a little more, and blackness took him. 

\---------------------------------------------

“Gabriel, no!” Sam shouted, but it was too late. He watched the archangel slump down next to Liseli, and let out a sob. He had his own job to do, however: the baby, a boy, had the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck and wasn’t breathing. Moreover, his face was blue. He cut the cord and unwrapped it as fast as he could. The women near him saw what he was doing and what was wrong, and one passed a wet hide over. Sam cleaned the baby’s mouth and nose with it, then set his fingers at the bottom of the baby’s breastbone. He started compressing it rhythmically, and was about to bend down to give it his breath when it coughed and then started wailing. The women around them gasped, and then gave a muted cheer as Sam gently picked the child up and passed it to an older woman who had been ready to clean it off. 

Sam immediately moved closer to Liseli. The excessive bleeding appeared to have stopped, but he checked just to be sure, and then looked up toward her face. He couldn’t see it, as Dasan had flung himself over his mate and was sobbing. “Get something to put her feet up on, and get some hides to cover her,” he told one of the nearby women, and she hastened to obey. 

Sam stood and moved around to Liseli’s head so he could get a better look at her. To his shock, but pleasure, she was breathing normally and had color in her cheeks. He felt for the pulse at her wrist, and found it strong. “Dasan!” He had to physically shake his brother’s shoulder before his brother looked up. “She’s fine! Gabriel must have healed her; she’s going to live!” Dasan’s eyes widened, and murmurs began amongst the women. 

Sam’s hand settled upon some dried bark when he let go of Liseli’s wrist. He found it incongruous, but his attention was now focused entirely on Gabriel. When he realized that Gabriel was unconscious, not dead, Sam started to cry with relief. “Him too,” he told the women. “Get them both warm, and get some broth into them as soon as you can. Dasan, can you make sure they’re protected?” He waited until he saw his brother nod at him to wipe his eyes. He happened to look down, and spotted the bark he’d felt earlier. Frowning, he picked it up, flipping it over and holding it up to the light of a nearby fire so he was certain of _exactly_ what it was. 

All this time, Sam had ignored Bimisi. He glanced up at the man to find a look of pure hatred on his face. Sam stood up. “Did you give her this?” he asked, holding the bark up. When Bimisi didn’t reply, Sam took a step forward and roared, “DID YOU GIVE HER THIS?” 

The smaller man took a step backward and held up his hands. “It was for the pain,” he protested, glancing around to see how many of his friends were nearby. It looked as if there were a few, including one with a spear, but mostly there were women--not surprising, for a childbirth. “Everyone knows you chew the bark for pain.”

“NEVER!” Sam continued to use his outside voice. “YOU _NEVER_ GIVE THIS TO A PREGNANT WOMAN. IT MAKES THEM BLEED, YOU IDIOTIC PIECE OF WOLF SHIT!” It hadn’t even occurred to Sam yet that Bimisi might have done it on purpose. That took him a few more seconds, and turned his blood to ice. “You--you--you knew that,” he gasped. “I know--you knew that!” Sam was such a good person that he had to struggle in order to get through his head the thought that Bimisi would purposefully use medicine to try to kill someone. 

It was about then that Cha’r pushed through the women. She was carrying a spear and was with several of Dasan’s friends, who also carried spears. She looked around wildly, but seemed to relax when she heard the baby’s cries and saw Liseli breathing. Dasan was still hovering over his mate, paying more attention to her than everything else that was going on. 

Sam flung the bark at Bimisi, his face contorted in a contemptuous grimace. It wasn’t large enough to hurt, but it caused the scarred old man to growl when it struck him. He took another step back, and opened his mouth to say something to his friends, but Sam beat him to it. “You _deliberately_ tried to kill her! I challenge you!” he exclaimed loudly, pointing a finger at the old man. “By the sun, moon, and stars, I challenge you! By the shivering of the Earth and the waves in the sea, I challenge you! By the animals and the plants in the forests, I challenge you!”

Suddenly, it was dead silent in the little clearing. Cha’r stepped forward, putting herself at Sam’s side. “I witness this challenge!” she declared. “And I stand for Sam! Who witnesses and stands for Bimisi?” 

“I do!” called Askook, an older man with large scars across his face (he had actually received these from a saber-toothed tiger, rather than scarring himself, as Bimisi had). He was standing just behind Bimisi. Although anyone could challenge anyone else, only warriors were allowed to stand for a person in this sort of a challenge, and although Askook was getting too old to go out much anymore, he was still considered a warrior by the tribe. 

Dasan stood up, and looked over at the four. Cha’r and Askook looked as if they were going to start fighting at any minute. “Peace!” Dasan called, into the silence. “Peace! There is a newborn babe, and the sun is not here to witness the challenge. The challenge will be held tomorrow, when the sun reaches its full height.” As their leader, he was well within his rights to set the time of the challenge, and no one argued. “Now go,” he told Bimisi and his friends. “And know that if you somehow manage to kill my brother tomorrow, I’ll challenge you myself. This is your last night on Earth, asshole.”

It still looked as if Askook and Bimisi might start a fight then and there, but suddenly there were women--especially elderly women--all over the place, in the way, seeming to be on important errands or stopping to chat with one another in a spot that just happened to be halfway between the incipient combatants. Bimisi glared at them, but eventually he and his friends left.

Somewhat deflated, Sam sat down next to Gabriel, who was being covered in hides even as women were building a fire nearby. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see his brother hovering over him. “He really tried to kill her?” Dasan asked. 

“Yeah,” Sam said quietly. “I’ve heard him talking about this bark before. He knew it made people bleed. He gave it to her to chew when she started giving birth?”

Dasan nodded down at him, his eyes going flat and dangerous. “He said it was for pain.”

Cha’r stepped up to them. “No wonder he was so sure that something terrible would happen to Dasan’s family,” she said. Sam could see her eyes were actively scanning the activity around them, likely looking for danger. “He knew all he had to do was give that to her, as long as Sam wasn’t around.” 

“He may have given her some other things,” Dasan admitted. “He’s been… coming over a lot in the past few days to ‘check’ on her. I thought he was just trying to make peace, but I know he was around the cook pot a time or two.” 

Sam swore. “Probably,” he agreed. “Thank the gods that Cha’r knew where Gabriel and I were and came to get us.“ 

“Yeah, man...look, I know you probably don’t want to hear this right now, but I’m sorry.” Sam could tell that this was actually one of Dasan’s more meaningful apologies. “I thought it would all blow over in a few days and you could come back. I didn’t realize how many people he had on his side, at first.” 

“It’s fine,” Sam replied, and it was, in turn, one of his more meaningful acceptances of an apology. “But I’m worried about Gabriel. I don’t know what he did, or if he’ll recover from this. I hope so,” he added, taking one of the honey-eyed man’s hands in his and bringing it to his lips. “I’m in love with him.” 

Dasan squeezed his shoulder. “Is there anything I can do to help?” When Sam shook his head no, Dasan turned to Cha’r. “Go get everyone on our side and their families. I don’t give a fuck what the others think. I want all of us in one place, in case Bimisi decides to attack tonight so he doesn’t have to face Sam tomorrow.” 

The warrior nodded, and slipped off into the night. One of the elderly women nearby, Migisi, the one that was holding Dasan’s new son, spoke up. Her voice was rather louder than it needed to be. “If you’ll take the baby, Dasan, I’ll go back and get my family and join you. A shaman who tries to kill a woman giving birth is no shaman at all.” 

Dasan held out his hands, and Sam watched him take the newborn, smiling down at it and then making faces. Sam let out a chuckle as the elderly woman walked away. As she did so, Sam noticed that a group of other women who had overheard the exchange went with her. He hoped they had seen everything, and that they would be able to talk their mates into, if nothing else, remaining neutral for the time being. 

Sam lifted up Gabriel, and arranged him so he was closer to the fire. The women, with Dasan’s help, did the same to Liseli. After about half an hour, as people were starting to arrive with their families, she stirred, waking up and then demanding to hold and feed her newborn son. Sam gave she and Dasan some space to talk, but he wasn’t surprised when, eventually, his brother walked toward him again, sat down next to him, and started speaking. “We’re going to name him Gaagii, after Gabriel,” Dasan told him. 

“That’s wonderful, Dasan. I’m so happy they’re both all right.” Sam was happy for his brother, even though his heart was heavy again with worry for Gabriel--not to mention what would happen tomorrow. Sam wasn’t a warrior, and he very much didn’t relish killing anyone--even someone who deserved it. 

“How is he?” Dasan asked, indicating Gabriel. 

“I think he’s okay. But I’m not sure,” Sam replied, brushing some hair out of Gabriel’s face. “This hasn’t happened before.” 

“I see how you thought he could help us, now,” Dasan admitted. “I knew they had power, but...that’s a lot of power. She says she feels as if she didn’t even birth a child, let alone nearly bleed to death.” 

“Damn straight, Dee-dee,” Gabriel coughed out, then groaned as his eyes fluttered open. “We all still alive?”

“Yes, thanks to you.” Sam leaned down to give Gabriel a slow kiss, putting all of his varied emotions into it. He pulled back a few inches, and told his lover, “Everyone made it. Go back to sleep. You need some rest.” Gabriel immediately closed his eyes--one of the few times that Sam had ever seen him so quick to obey a suggestion.

“Dee-dee!?” Dasan choked. “You told him about--Sam, I swear if Bimisi doesn’t kill you tomorrow, I will!” 

Sam just laughed softly at his brother’s outburst, as he kissed his lover back to sleep. “ _If_ I survive,” he told Dasan, stroking Gabriel’s hair as he watched the firelight play off of it, “You can do whatever you want with me.” 

“You should get some sleep too,” his brother said after a few moments. “You have a murdering asshole to kill tomorrow.” 

Sam debated the merits of replying and initially decided against it, but when Dasan stood up to leave, he looked up at him and blurted out, “I don’t want to.”

“I know,” Dasan replied quietly, his face full of sympathy. He set a hand on his brother’s shoulder, and squeezed. “I know you hate hurting anything, even when you’re out hunting. But you have to. You challenged him, and if you don’t kill him, he’ll kill you.”

“I know,” Sam said sadly. “Good night, Dasan,” he added as he settled down onto the ground next to Gabriel. 

“Good night. And don’t worry, we’ll watch over both of you. No one’s going to get anywhere near here tonight.” Dasan assured him before leaving. 

Sam used one arm to pillow his head, and wrapped the other around Gabriel as he laid on his side next to him. Sam thought he wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep--even though the adrenaline he’d had when he’d arrived in the village had worn off, his thoughts were chasing one another around in his head in the worst way possible. However, there was something soothing about Gabriel’s solid presence next to him, and in hardly any time at all, Sam was dreaming of better times.


	11. The fight

[](https://imgur.com/BG6Rbxq)  


Sam had honestly hoped Gabriel would sleep through the challenge the next day. Unfortunately, the new baby started wailing loudly a couple of hours before noon, and Gabriel woke up, yawned, and stretched. He looked around, and saw a number of different villagers, but no Sam. 

Liseli came over, a bright smile on her face. “Sacred One,” she greeted, holding a bowlful of food out for him. “I’m told I owe you my life. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” replied Gabriel, and since neither Dasan nor Sam were around, he winked at her this time. “Ahh...where’s Sam?” he asked, glancing around again before he started eating.

“He’s warming up,” Liseli told him. “He challenged Bimisi to one-on-one combat, and Dasan declared it would happen at noon today so the Sun could witness it.” 

Gabriel was very nearly killed by a bit of meat that went down the wrong pipe. Coughing and choking, he banged on his sternum until the offending bit of food came back up. “ _What_?!” 

Liseli nodded, sympathy in her eyes. “He and Bimisi will fight at noon, in the village clearing, until one kills the other. Most of the village will be there. Don’t worry, after what you did last night, Bimisi doesn’t have as many supporters. No one will interfere with the fight.” 

“No one will--” Gabriel choked out, climbing to his feet and setting the bowl of food on the ground. The dogs would get it there, but he could care less. “Are you seriously telling me that Sam decided to challenge Bimisi to mortal combat? Has he lost his mind completely?”

Liseli shrugged. “I’m told he was very, very angry. And if he hadn’t, Dasan would have, after what Sam found out. It actually--it means that just the two will fight, rather than the whole village. It’s better for everyone.”

“Except for whoever dies!” Gabriel responded, clearly anxious. “And what are the rules? Can Bimisi use magic? Or...or what if he cheats?”

“Cha’r is Sam’s second. She will watch for cheating and be responsible for stopping it, although magic is allowed,” Liseli explained. “Not much is considered cheating in these challenges--the idea is to kill the other person, however you can.”

“ _Shit,_ ” was Gabriel’s eloquent response. “Where’s Sam? Can I still talk him out of this?” he asked. 

“He cannot forfeit the challenge without losing his life, unless both parties agree to call it off,” Liseli explained, before pointing toward the village clearing. “I think he’s practicing in the clearing.” 

Gabriel wasted no time hurrying through the village, once again ignoring those he passed. Luckily for him (and possibly them), no one tried to stop him. He skidded to a halt next to Cha’r, who was apparently guarding Sam as the tall man prepared himself in the clearing: the butt of her spear was suddenly resting rather uncomfortably in the middle of Gabriel’s solar plexus, though he barely noticed it. In other circumstances, Gabriel would have been very distracted by the show Sam was putting on, what with the rippling muscles and all, but right now, he ignored it in order to yell, “What the everliving _fuck_ , Sam?” 

Sam jumped to his feet and held out his hands to stop the protest. “I had to, Gabe,” he tried to explain, as he walked closer. “He tried to _murder Liseli_. With _medicine_. It’s a violation of his relationship with the gods as a shaman, and it’s another shaman’s place to prove that.”

Gabriel stuck his fists on his hips, and didn’t care how much shorter he was than Sam. His wings flared out too, catching the light in a display of dominance and causing dancing golden patches to flash through the clearing. “That’s not what Liseli told me,” he argued, pointing back the way he’d come. “She said Dasan could’ve done it, too. Sam, how well can you even fight?” He managed to moderate his tone so the entire village couldn’t hear their disagreement, but only barely. 

“Better than you seem to think I can,” Sam retorted, going with the kicked puppy dog look. “He’s older than me, and wasn’t initially trained as a warrior. I can hold my own in a fight. Just ask Cha’r here,” he said, gesturing to the warrior. 

“Oh no,” Cha’r said, lowering her spear now that she was sure Gabriel wasn’t an assassin sent to hurt Sam. “Don’t drag me into this. I am _not_ getting between the two of you.” She turned and took several paces away before folding her arms across her chest, looking for other potential threats. 

“Sam, what if he cheats? What if he uses magic on you? What if he did all of this just so he could get an opportunity to kill you in a ‘fair’ fight? Then he becomes shaman by default.” Gabriel’s wings slowly moved back and forth, as if they were swaying in the wind. “And I don’t have any grace left, Sam. None,” he continued to keep his voice low, although it was heated. “If -you- die, they’ll kill me next.”

“No they won’t,” Sam argued. “If I die, Dasan says he’ll challenge Bimisi next. And Cha’r will get you out of here. Besides, Gabriel. I’m not going to die. I promise. I can take him in a fight. I don’t want to, but I can.”

“What about magic? Do you even know any harmful spells? Because if he used a spell to make himself look like he was put together from half a dozen different people, I bet he’s got something much worse on standby that he can use on you. What if he just stops your heart, or drains your strength? Sam--please, you have to find a way to call this off.” Gabriel deployed his own puppy-dog eyes, as his wings wilted. His sad eyes weren’t _as_ impressive as Sam’s, but they were not to be underestimated. “Please, Sam. I don’t _want_ to live without you, even if I could.” 

Sam stepped forward and gathered Gabriel into his arms, his hand resting on the back of Gabriel’s head, which he pushed gently toward his chest. “I’m sorry, Gabriel. I have to do this. I’ll make sure I have some protective spells on, okay?”

Gabriel leaned his head against Sam’s chest, and wrapped his arms around his human. He could hear Sam’s heart beating, and was doing his best not to tear up. “You promise me,” he said. “You promise me right now I won’t have to watch you die.” 

Sam pushed him far enough away that he could look down into Gabriel’s amber eyes. “I promise I will do my best not to let him kill me.” He leaned down to press his lips against Gabriel’s. 

“Don’t hesitate, Sam,” Gabriel murmured after they broke apart. “I know you, you don’t want to do this even though it needs to be done. This is an evil man. He has to die for the village to live. Like...like how you have to cut off a gangrenous foot, or a finger, in order to save the entire person. Don’t hesitate. Promise me?”

Sam ran his thumb along Gabriel’s cheekbone. “I promise I’ll try. I need to go back to stretching, okay? Don’t go far? I don’t want them to get at you while Cha’r and I aren’t there.” 

That, Gabriel could promise, so he nodded. “Okay. Okay, Sam, I’ll be right here the whole time.” He hated this, hated the idea that he could lose his lover so soon after discovering him, but he also understood (even if he didn’t _like_ ) the sense of duty Sam felt to the village, his home. 

He took a few steps back, and sat down in the sun. He put his wings up to shade himself; even though the feathers weren’t fully grown out, it was enough to shade his body. Then? Then Gabriel started to worry about what was going to happen when the sun reached its full height. 

\--------------------------------------------------

As noon approached, people began to gather, though most gave Gabriel and his wings a wide berth. Many stared at him, and the looks seemed to involve more curiosity than fear. Doubtless people had heard about what he’d done last night, and were wondering what else he could do--plus, although they were far from impressive at the moment, his wings were no longer a black mess. 

Gabriel’s stomach was in knots. Bimisi still hadn’t appeared, but some of his cronies had. Those who were warriors were carrying their spears. They mixed in amongst the villagers, occasionally stopping to talk to one or a few of them at a time. Dasan had arrived, and was standing near Gabriel in a cluster of his warriors. Sam was resting in the shade nearby. Cha’r had drifted toward the archangel, although she was still watching the area as if someone might attack Sam any second. Gabriel wondered just how valid her concerns were, and hoped that she was just being overly cautious. 

Gabriel started when he realized that Dasan had walked up to him while he was thinking and was now standing next to him. “You all right?” the chieftain asked gruffly. 

“Not really. You?” Gabriel adjusted one of his wings so it was providing Dasan with shade also. 

“Wish it were me in there. I’m the better fighter,” Dasan replied. There was something else in his tone, some acknowledgement of the fact that he believed he would be better able to get the job done. Gabriel instinctively understood; he knew that he personally would have no problem killing Bimisi, but he wasn’t entirely sure that Sam could do it. 

“No offense, Dasan-o, but I wish it was you, too,” Gabriel replied. “I don’t want to watch this.” 

“I can understand that,” Dasan replied, his voice soft. “I would hate it if it were Liseli. And I don’t want anything happening to my little brother. But he is a grown-up. He made his own choice.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it. Dasan, if magic is allowed...what’s _not_ allowed in one of these fights?” 

“Help from friends,” Dasan replied immediately. “You should know that. If you do anything to help him, _and it’s obvious_ ,” he emphasized, “he’ll forfeit the match, and his life.”

Gabriel pursed his lips. “If magic is what you’re implying, I don’t have any more. Like, none. Believe me, I’d be happy to help Sam cheat if I could. I don’t care much about rules, especially when the other side doesn’t. But my camel hump’s empty. I _should_ be resting right now.” 

Dasan nodded, looking slightly disappointed. Seconds later, Bimisi walked into the clearing with a few of his friends, including Askook, who walked over to stand opposite Cha’r. “Migration time,” Dasan muttered. Many thousands of years later, the phrase would become ‘showtime.’

“Good luck,” Gabriel told him, standing up. Despite not being able to do anything to help, he wanted to be on his feet. 

Dasan walked out to the center of the clearing. Sam, Bimisi, Askook and Cha’r met him there, and the group conversed quietly for a time. The whole village was straining to hear them, but Gabriel could hear the discussion clearly. Dasan asked them both if they were willing to walk away from the challenge (they said no), and if those standing for them were willing to step in if there was any cheating on either side (they were). Dasan reminded them that they had to stay in the clearing, inside the circle of people (using anyone, even the seconds, as a human shield was one of the few things that was not allowed) and that they had to fight until one gave the other a mortal wound. 

Dasan then raised his voice, reminding the crowd that no one was to help the combatants or interfere with the challenge under any circumstances. Gabriel stood on the edge of the clearing and watched as Cha’r and Askook moved to spots opposite each other once more. Sam and Bimisi faced each other across a short distance; Dasan told them both not to move until he indicated that the combat was to begin. 

Gabriel had seen plenty of righteous anger in his day, but Sam seemed marinated in it. The tall man held his spear pointed at Bimisi’s chest, and he looked as if the scarred man were something disgusting that had gotten onto his foot. Bimisi actually had the nerve to look relaxed, though his spear was pointing at Sam’s chest as well. He had something in his other hand--a cloth of some sort, Gabriel thought, or perhaps some spell components. Sam was using both hands to support his spear. 

Dasan called for the gods to witness the event, and then declared that the combatants could begin at the count of five. He slowly counted upwards, and then called ‘Begin!’

Bimisi tossed the contents of his hand down in between the two of them, and there was a bright flash of red light. To Gabriel’s delight, however, Sam appeared to anticipate the move, and actually dove backward into a roll which brought him back to his feet. Gabriel wasn’t sure what effect the magic would have had, but it seemed that Sam had managed to avoid it. 

Bimisi sneered at Sam, clearly unhappy that the other man hadn’t darted forward into the spell. “Coward!” he called, even now preferring to use words instead of spears to fight. “Face me!”

Sam scoffed, but slowly narrowed the distance between them. Bimisi stepped forward like he was going to charge with his spear, but instead pulled another cloth-wrapped bundle that looked like a hex bag out of a pouch and tossed it at Sam. 

This time, rather than dodge, Sam just used the haft of his spear to strike the bag, sending it and its contents flying out of the clearing (Gabriel hoped that whatever it was wasn’t _too_ dangerous). Sam gave a wordless shout and charged the remaining distance between them, thrusting with his spear. 

Bimisi half-dodged, half-parried the attack with his own spear with a contemptuous look on his face. He let Sam charge past him and then smacked the younger man in the back with the haft of his spear. As he did, he chanted a few words, and his spear suddenly glowed red. Sam cried out in pain, but answering blue light surrounded him. Gabriel heaved a sigh of relief as Sam’s protection spell appeared to deflect most of the evil magic. Sam whirled back around, taking a jab at Bimisi’s legs.

Bimisi managed to get his spear down fast enough to knock aside Sam’s attack, but he didn’t counter-attack this time. Instead, he stepped backward and set his feet, making sure his stance was stable. “I’m going to kill you,” he hissed at Sam, quietly enough that Gabriel wasn’t sure that anyone but he and Sam could hear it. “You, and then your pet winged freak, and then your brother and his brats.”

Sam’s face contorted into an ugly grimace and he attacked, viciously jabbing and parrying with his spear. The crowd screamed and gasped as the spears struck each other over and over. Bimisi took advantage of Sam’s uncontrolled anger and managed to nick Sam’s left arm with his spear, sending droplets of blood flying. 

_Shit._ Gabriel had been worried about exactly this, because there were a number of truly horrible magic spells that could be done once you had someone’s blood. Judging by the way Bimisi’s face lit up, he knew one or two of them. 

Before he could do anything, however, Sam managed to jab his spear just _so_ in between Bimisi’s arms, and _twist_ the spear out of the older man’s hands. It flew a few feet, and then thudded into the sand. 

“Yield!” Sam yelled, pushing his spear point forward, uncomfortably close to Bimisi’s chest. “It’s _over!_ ” Gabriel held his breath. _Damnit, Sam, stop yelling and kill him already!_ he thought. 

Bimisi bowed his head, but Gabriel could see that he still had a smirk on his face. Gabriel frowned, wondering why that was. A second later, he watched as Bimisi reached out and snatched Sam’s forearm, pushing the spear to the side. More of the red light appeared around his hand, and Sam’s spear tumbled out of his hands as he grunted in pain. 

With no warning, one of the onlookers rushed into the clearing, tackling Cha’r and sending her tumbling to the ground. Askook immediately ran forward a couple of steps and tossed his spear at Bimisi, even as the crowd cried out in surprise. 

Gabriel couldn’t do anything but watch the spear arc through the air. It was going to land in Bimisi’s hands, and he was in a perfect position to kill Sam with it. Sam’s hands looked as if they weren’t responding to his commands right now, thanks to Bimisi’s magic. Bimisi and his friends may be cheating, but Sam was going to be dead, and ultimately the tribe needed a shaman, didn’t it? The toxic old man was going to win in the end. 

Gabriel had no magic. He had nothing, except… His eyes lit up, and he stretched his wings out to their full span. Then, he flapped them, hard. The feathers might not be sticking out far from the skin...but the wings were still large, and there were four of them. Gabriel’s sudden blast of air hit Bimisi and Sam and didn’t do much to them, but it slowed the spear just enough that it fell a foot or two behind Bimisi instead of into his hands. He gaped at it, and Sam took advantage of the opportunity to punch him in the face. Sam’s hands might not have been working perfectly, but Bimisi still reeled backwards. 

Cha’r had already disabled her attacker and was climbing back to her feet when Gabriel finally thought to spare her a glance. Dasan had run out to trade blows with Askook. It wasn’t looking good for Bimisi’s friend, as Dasan had a spear and Askook had thrown his to Bimisi. 

Gabriel ran forward to help Sam, but it turned out that the young shaman didn’t need it. Sam had executed the same hip throw that Gabriel used on him back on the beach, and then landed on his knees with his full weight on Bimisi’s chest. Gabriel clearly heard a rib or two snap, and the older ‘shaman’ screamed. 

Keeping his opponent pinned with his knees, Sam reached behind him for the spear he’d dropped. It looked as if his hands still weren’t working perfectly, but it didn’t matter. He had seen Bimisi try to cheat, had been angered by his words, and was clearly at the end of his rope. Sam grasped the spear, lifted it up, and with a shout plunged the point down into Bimisi’s right eye socket. 

For a moment or two, it looked as if a fully-fledged fight was going to break out between Bimisi’s supporters and Dasan’s, but once the former group realized that they were short one leader, they started to back off--especially once Askook hit the ground with an audible thud. 

Gabriel made it to Sam, and threw his arms around him. Sam was panting and looking around, but climbed to his feet and returned the hug. The spear haft dug into Gabriel’s back, but he didn’t care. His human was alive. 

Dasan was quickly joined by Cha’r as he stood over Askook with a spear point to the other man’s throat. “They broke the rules,” he explained in a clear, carrying voice. “We did what was necessary.” He stared down at Askook, daring the other man to disagree. 

“We cheated,” Askook made sure his voice was loud enough to carry, likely knowing that Dasan wouldn’t give him a second chance to admit what they’d done. “Wohehiv distracted Cha’r, and I threw a spear to Bimisi before they broke the rules.”

“Sam has won the contest,” Dasan declared. “Let no one else question his right to be the shaman of this tribe!” This time, there were some murmurs and some scattered drumming of hands on thighs, the Prehistoric equivalent of clapping. He glared down at Askook, then moved back slightly, so his spear tip was no longer at the other man’s throat. Cha’r mirrored him. “Get your family and leave this village. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you. My warriors will too. Anyone who thinks like you should leave as well.” 

“Now!” Dasan continued, pitching his voice louder. “Sam has told us, repeatedly, that this…angel,” he said, pronouncing the word slowly and gesturing to Gabriel, “Will help us, if only we help him. All he needs is food, and a place to stay. Last night, even though we turned against him, he returned to us and healed my Liseli. She had almost taken the hands of the spirits, but this morning it’s as if nothing ever happened. It’s true—ask the women,” Dasan said when there were a few noises of disbelief. “He cannot work magic like that every day, but we would be fools to throw a resource like that away. So. Gabriel. I should have done this when you first came, but since I didn’t—welcome to our village. Our food is your food. Let us hunt together.”

Dasan offered Gabriel his forearm once again, and Gabriel let go of Sam long enough to shake it. This time, there was a _lot_ of drumming.


	12. The end of the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More smut!

Once everyone who wanted to congratulate Sam had, Sam and Gabe pleaded exhaustion and made their way back to Sam’s lean-to. Sam made a face when he saw some new herbs hanging up--several of them were poisonous--but did nothing about them immediately; he had other things on his mind. Drunk on adrenaline still, he pulled Gabriel to him and kissed the angel roughly. 

When they came up for air, Gabriel grinned at him and opened his mouth to say something snarky, but Sam growled, turned him around, and manhandled him until he was resting on his hands and knees in front of Sam. Rather than protest, Gabriel whimpered. He liked it when Sam showed Gabriel exactly how strong he was. Gabriel also loved it—and what followed--when Sam was too worked up to banter. 

Still, Sam was Sam. “This okay?” he asked breathlessly, as his hands found their way to Gabriel’s oil gland and began to massage it. Sam’d had some time to learn exactly what drove Gabriel wild, so once he gathered up some oil, he leaned forward to put his tongue on the gland, half-smelling and half-tasting the strange but pleasant gourd-and-spices smell that came from his lover. 

“Yes!” Gabriel wasn’t capable of saying anything else at this point—not that he wanted to. He felt Sam remove his loincloth and then his oiled fingers probe his entrance, and he moaned as Sam started opening him up with those long fingers of his. Sam’s other hand found one of his wing joints, and began to massage it. Gabriel did his best to hold himself upright and not turn to putty in Sam’s hands, but it was difficult. Sam was getting _really_ good at this, playing Gabriel’s wings and body like a musical instrument. 

Once Gabriel was fully stretched, Sam lined himself up and quickly pushed himself in as Gabriel groaned. Sam began to pepper kisses and love bites all along Gabriel’s shoulders, but always returned to his oil gland, knowing how sensitive it was. One of Sam’s hands remained in Gabriel’s wings, but the other slid around and took Gabriel in hand. “Oh, Father,” Gabriel gasped, and when Sam started to move, Gabriel became incapable of even that much speech. 

“Love…you…” Gabriel heard Sam pant from above. “Gabriel!” Sam usually managed to last much longer than he did this time, but Gabriel could hardly complain as Sam’s hand brought him ever closer to his own release. 

“Please…more…” Gabriel begged. Sam kept up the motions of his hand until Gabriel came all over Sam’s hand and the dirt of the clearing. The angel slumped forward, but Sam caught him and pulled him back to lean against Sam’s chest with his clean hand. 

Sam wiped his soiled hand on a nearby patch of grass, and shared a long, lazy kiss with Gabriel. “ _Now_ I’m really exhausted,” murmured the shaman. He let Gabriel off him, and then got up, only to follow the angel into the lean-to, where they sprawled out on the hides. 

“Thanks for not dying, Sam-yam,” Gabriel managed before the two fell asleep in each other’s arms, Gabriel’s wings covering them both. 

\------------------------------------------------------------

Considering the reception he’d received the first time, it took fairly little time for most of the villagers to accept Gabriel; the women who had witnessed Liseli’s healing were particularly welcoming. There were still a few holdouts who had been loyal to Bimisi, but Sam didn’t much care. He and Gabriel had cleaned out some of the nastier herbs and spell components that Bimisi had left behind, and he had returned to caring for the villagers, while Gabriel went wherever he was needed. Sometimes he went gathering, sometimes he took up a spear with the warriors as they went out to hunt, and sometimes he couldn’t talk his way out of guard duty (although that was rare). 

Sam held onto plenty of guilt about the fact that he’d killed Bimisi, but thankfully Gabriel was always there to remind him that he was being an idiot when Sam was feeling bad about what he’d done. Life in the village went on, and the people were considerably happier without Bimisi and his friends. As Gabriel frequently reminded Sam, it truly had been necessary to remove the ‘gangrenous limb’ so the village could thrive.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

About two weeks after the fight, Sam noticed something in Gabriel’s gorgeous golden feathers when the sun hit them. The two were sitting across from one another, working. “Hey…what’s that?” he asked, gently taking hold of one wing and pulling it toward him. He saw that, at the point where the feathers were uncurling, there was a line bisecting the feather with hardly any color in it. Wordlessly, he moved it so Gabriel could see what he had seen. 

“Oh…that’s a fault bar,” Gabriel said, shrugging his shoulders unconcernedly. “It’s when I used too much grace. It must have siphoned a little from the feathers, so they don’t have any color in them. Bird feathers break when they get fault bars. Don’t worry, though, angel feathers are strong. They don’t normally break at all; it would take a great deal of force to break them, even along these faults.” 

“You sure it’s okay?” Sam asked. The danger from Bimisi and his friends seemed to have dwindled to nothing since Bimisi died and Askook and a few friends had left the village. However, Sam was concerned that when Gabriel’s wings finally grew out, the feathers wouldn’t be strong enough to hold him up when he flew. It was a foolish worry that Gabriel had attempted to allay many times, but it seemed as if Sam wasn’t truly happy unless he had _something_ to worry about. 

Gabriel was determined to break him of that habit, so he lightly batted Sam in the face with his wing. “They’re _fine,_ Sam-yam. Stop your worrying, or I’ll be forced to jump off one of the cliffs and glide into the ocean to prove to you they’ll work. And then I’d be all wet AND you’d have to come rescue me.”

“Yeah?” Sam replied with a smile, reaching up with his hands to defend himself against the appendage. “I’m not sure that would be so bad; maybe I should keep worrying.” 

“You just wait, Sam. A couple of years and I’ll be flying circles around you without you even realizing I’m there,” Gabriel promised. 

“I can’t wait,” and Sam meant it as he leaned across the gap between them to kiss his impossibly wonderful, angelic, lover. For once, he was looking forward to the future.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr at @Masterpieceofturkeycleverness!


End file.
